


Reborn On Ice!!!

by Little_Miss_Bunny



Series: Loving You Always [1]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Yuri!!! on Ice Fusion, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Ballet Teacher Bianchi, Classical Music, Figure Skater Gokudera Hayato, Figure Skater Reborn, Figure Skater Sawada Tsunayoshi, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, I don't know much about figure skating but I tried, Inspired by Yuri!!! on Ice, M/M, Out of Character, Romance, Sassy Sawada Tsunayoshi, Sawada Iemitsu's A+ Parenting, Sawada Nana's A+ Parenting, Tsuna is So Done, Tsuna is a Reborn fanboy, Twin Bashing, cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-09 06:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14710853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Miss_Bunny/pseuds/Little_Miss_Bunny
Summary: Tsuna was never going to skate again, but help came from the most unexpected source.Cross-posted from FF.





	1. Chapter 1

It was official.

Ieyasu was a dick. A goddamn dick that needed to burn in hell and never see daylight again—and that was putting it nicely.

Tsuna was stretching in the waiting room when his phone buzzed in his bag. His coach, Kawahira, had told him beforehand to keep it off, but it must’ve slipped his mind. Sighing, Tsuna walked over to silence the incessant buzzing when he realized that it was a series of texts from his younger twin, which was strange since Ieyasu _never_ contacted him once since he left Japan to train.

He shouldn’t have read them.

Walking out to where Kawahira waited for him, Tsuna could barely breathe. The crowd’s cheers were distant in his ringing ears and his legs were shaking so hard he could’ve crawled all the way out. But he had some dignity left and damn it, he was going to _pull_ through whether he liked it or not. It really didn’t have to do with the fact that Reborn, the most decorated and successful male figure skater in the world, was most likely watching—nope, not at all.

Kawahira took one look at his face and frowned. He steered Tsuna to the side where it was less crowded. “Tsunayoshi, what’s wrong?”

It took one simple question to crack the dam. Tsuna’s breath hitched and he clenched his hands into fists by his sides, his voice failing him in epic proportions. No matter what he wanted to say, his mind drew blanks. Kawahira grasped his shoulders firmly, his eyes serious.

“Whatever it is that’s bothering you, you need to breathe,” he said in a hushed tone. “All you have to do is let yourself go for four minutes. You came this far, Tsunayoshi. Don’t let all your hard training go to waste.”

“Renchan,” Tsuna said, his voice cracking. “He—He…”

Kawahira pursed his lips, but before he could say anything, the announcer was already saying Tsuna’s name through the speakers. “…representing Japan, Tsunayoshi Sawada!”

A wave of cheers rebounded in the large stadium, making Tsuna flinch. A deluge of overlapping thoughts suddenly washed over him. His body felt cold. Oh, God, he couldn’t do this. He was going to fuck up. It was a miracle he even made it to the Grand Prix final in the first place after the competitor above him had broken his ankle during his performance and Tsuna just wasn’t _ready_ for this.

“Tsunayoshi, there is no shame in pulling out now.”

Pulling out? When the weight of his own country was riding on his shoulders? After he trained _five_ goddamn years for this? Tsuna couldn’t afford to drop out now. He had wanted to show his family and peers that there was something more to him than Dame-Tsuna, that he _could_ do something right for a change, even if it was something “girly” as figure skating as Ieyasu put it. Still, when he saw his name at last place on the ranking screen, his heart nearly stopped.

“I—I can do it,” he managed to stutter out.

Kawahira hesitated and Tsuna wanted to scream. Even his coach thought he was good-for-nothing. It was almost commendable that Kawahira managed to stay with him for this long. Turning, Tsuna ignored whatever his coach was telling him. Whatever he was saying, it was no use now.

Tsuna took a deep, shaky breath and skated out to the rink.

* * *

The last notes of his piece dissolved heavily into a suffocating silence.

Tsuna didn’t even look around to gauge everyone’s reactions—he just had to _leave_. After excusing himself to the restroom, he changed out of his stifling blue costume and threw on his sweats, ignoring the other skaters in the dressing room. Grabbing his duffel bag, he zipped up his red-and-white jacket with “Japan” written in the front and dashed to the restroom.

Luckily, no reporters were out yet; some audience members lingered in the hallways. No one stopped Tsuna. The bathroom was empty, thank God, because he was pretty sure he was going to—

He stumbled into a random stall and heaved whatever he ate for lunch in the toilet. Coughing, Tsuna wrinkled his nose from the sour odor before throwing up again. His hand shook when he flushed the toilet while he collapsed against the stall. His duffel bag laid heavily on his lap and he could feel the blades of his skates digging a little bit into his thighs.

Clicking his tongue, he pulled out his phone and jabbed in an all-too familiar number. The line rang three times before the other person picked up.

Tsuna couldn’t even speak. He tried to find the right words to say—he prepared a fucking speech for this, goddamn it—but his tongue felt heavy and his mind was completely blank.

“Oh, Nii-san.” Tsuna forgot how much he hated his brother’s drawling tone. “Are you okay? You didn’t look too good up there.”

Tsuna inhaled deeply through his nose and his hand tightened around his phone. “What the _fuck_ , Ieyasu? Why did you—What—”

“Don’t worry, Nii-san,” Ieyasu said in mock-sympathy. “We understand. It’s been really difficult, right? Those five years really paid off, didn’t they?”

“Shut up, you piece of shit,” Tsuna hissed. “Where’s Renchan?”

Ieyasu sighed dramatically. “It was unfortunate, really. But I’ll let you know where we buried him. He’s actually in our backyard. You can’t miss it. There’s even a small shrine for him.”

Tsuna paled. “Buried…? You already buried him…?”

“I mean, it’s been a while. Three years in fact. Poor Renchan. You couldn’t even attend his funeral. He must’ve been so sad you weren’t there.”

Tsuna covered his mouth before he really did scream. His eyes burned, and he blinked a couple of times to keep his tears at bay. He couldn’t even do that. Three years—Renchan died three years ago and he didn’t _know_. Memories of his dog then burst in his mind in quick, painful succession: waking up with Tsuna to join his morning run, snuggling up against him to make sure Tsuna didn’t get too cold at night; following him to practice and waiting until he finished; greeting him at the door whenever he returned from school; licking and growling at his wounds from training.

Never mind the fact that Renchan was short for Renato, which was Reborn’s real name. He was _everything_ to Tsuna.

How _dare_ they? How _dare_ his brother pull something like this?

Tsuna couldn’t tell what he should be angrier at—the fact that he let Ieyasu’s texts get to him or the fact that his brother pulled something so fucked up.

“I’m going to _kill_ you,” he choked out. “How could you do that to me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. But you’re scaring me, Nii-san. I know you’re emotional right now, but I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Stop pulling that bullshit, Ieyasu. If you had anything to do with—if you had so much as _touched_ Renchan, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

There was some shuffling in the background before another voice spoke through the line, making Tsuna tense. “Tsu-kun?” It was his mother. Shit, he should’ve known that Ieyasu wasn’t alone. “What’s going on? Yasu-kun looks scared. Are you scolding him again?”

“I—Why didn’t anyone tell me about Renchan?” Tsuna said, his voice cracking.

“Oh, sweetie.” His mother sounded sympathetic, but it didn’t ring true in his ears. She was always a ditzy woman and meant well, but it was baffling how she was even able to raise children at all. “You were so busy with your training that I didn’t think it was good to distract you. I was hoping to tell you when you came back home.”

“ _Three_ years, Okaa-san. It’s been _three_ years. It doesn’t matter—Renchan was my _dog_. I have the right to know.”

“Everything will be alright, dear. You have Natsu, right? He misses you a lot and my, he grew bigger since you left!”

Tsuna couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Apparently, his mouth thought the same. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Tsu-kun! Language!”

Tsuna didn’t care. For years, his family had always told him that he wouldn’t amount to anything and now that he made a name for himself, they were all smiles and laughter that were never genuine. That wasn’t what he wanted when he first got into figure skating. He wanted them to _see_ he could do something, but they didn’t see. They didn’t understand.

“I understand that you must be upset from today, but you’ll do better next time, okay? So, please don’t take it out on Yasu-kun. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

Sighing, Tsuna just rubbed his face with a shaking hand. He was too exhausted to explain himself again. It never worked anyways. Suddenly, he felt small, very small. He wished Renchan was with him…

“When will you be coming home, Tsu-kun?” His mother’s chipper tone suddenly made him nauseous all over again. “Oh, I’ll prepare a feast and invite everyone!”

“I don’t know,” Tsuna said dully. “I need to go.”

“Oh, but your fath—”

Tsuna just hung up, not caring how rude it was. He’d been in the bathroom for nearly half an hour now. A bitter chuckle escaped his chapped lips. His parents were going to give him hell for what he did. Guess what? He didn’t give a flying fuck.

Hauling himself up from the ground, Tsuna grabbed his duffel bag and shakily unlocked the stall door. His legs almost gave out if he didn’t grasp the sink. He washed his mouth as much as he could and splashed cold water on his face, letting out a quivering sigh when he looked in the mirror. He looked like shit.

After finding some gum in his bag—thank God—Tsuna exited the bathroom. There were much more people in the hallways now. He could see some of the skaters being interviewed at the corner of his eye and automatically moved away from any camera’s line of sight. His luck apparently ended when he found that piece of gum.

“Sawada-san!”

Tsuna pretended he didn’t hear his name being shouted across the room. Cold sweat broke out on his skin. The air suddenly felt too stifling. He barely managed to take another few steps when someone quickly intercepted his path.

“Sawada-san, I thought you left already!”

Tsuna forced on a smile. “Not yet, Kozato-san.”

Kozato Makoto was, thankfully, not a reporter. He was one of the Japanese announcers for many figure skating competitions. While he was a nice man, Tsuna really wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. He glanced around to look for an escape when he met a pair of obsidian eyes across the room. For a moment, his heart nearly stopped.

It was Reborn, standing amongst a sea of reporters congratulating him on his fifth Grand Prix victory. His charming smile made all the ladies swoon and he responded to questions without a hitch. His jacket had “Italy” printed in the front and looked bit tacky, but he managed to look handsome anyways.

“—retire?”

Blinking, Tsuna shifted his gaze back to the man in front of him. “I’m…sorry, but could you repeat your question?”

“I was just wondering if you’re thinking about retiring,” Makoto said.

Tsuna pulled a small face. “What? No, I mean—Yeah, no. I didn’t say anything about retiring.”

Makoto nodded with a bright grin. “That’s great! For a second, I thought you were actually thinking about it after today. I know that the pressure is intimidating, but I believe that you have the potential to pull through! Really, Sawada-san, this is only a stumble in your career so don’t let it get to your head too much, alright? My kids are actually big fans! They absolutely love you! So do you have any plans going forward now? Are you going to train longer or will you go back to Namimori?”

Tsuna tried to keep up with the man’s eager little speech, when Kawahira suddenly appeared from the crowd. “Ah, Tsunayoshi, there you are,” his coach said, gripping his shoulder. “Hello, Kozato-san. I apologize from cutting your conversation short, but would you excuse us? Thank you.”

Kawahira didn’t even give Makoto time to respond before he steered Tsuna away.

“Thank you,” Tsuna said quietly.

“Of course.” Kawahira glanced at him. “Are you alright?” 

“Never better.”

Kawahira didn’t comment on his sarcasm. Instead, he just nodded. “We’ll talk more at the hotel. Is there anything you prefer to eat for dinner?”

“How was it?”

Kawahira quirked a brow, but indulged him nonetheless. That was one thing Tsuna appreciated about him—he didn’t hold back on his criticisms. “You didn’t gather enough speed for your jumps, but that has always been your issue since the beginning. The landings were shaky at best and your launches were too stiff. Your step sequences were not in tune with the music towards the end, but you managed to finish the program, which is the more important part. The judges were a little generous this time around.”

Tsuna nodded. He’d have to re-watch his performance later when he was up for it. Now, he just wanted to lay in bed and never leave his hotel room.

“We’ll talk more at the hotel,” Kawahira said, opening the door for him. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to eat? Italy has some fine cuisine.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Neither of them spoke after in the cab on the way back.

* * *

Tsuna didn’t go home until March next year.

He had taken Kawahira’s advice to relax and do some sight-seeing in Milan before he returned to Namimori. It was probably the most content he’d ever been in his life, even when his chest ached at the thought of Renchan. Just…being away from the rink was almost liberating.

However, he knew he couldn’t avoid his problems forever. When he finally mustered up the courage to tell Kawahira that he wouldn’t be needing him as a coach anymore or continue skating, the other man only stared at him and shook his head in disappointment, as if _he_ did something wrong and not Tsuna.

Nonetheless, it unnerved him when Kawahira said, “I apologize that I wasn’t enough for you, Tsunayoshi. Although, I didn’t think that I was ever the best fit for you as a coach. If you ever change your mind, I look forward to seeing you on the ice again.”

It should be the other way around, Tsuna thought, but he was too overwhelmed so he only nodded and bid Kawahira goodbye at the airport.

He slept through most of the flight and woke up when the plane landed. He didn’t expect anyone to be there when he gathered his luggage. No one knew he was returning and he never told anyone about his plans. What amount of independence he had was nice while it lasted though.

So, when he saw Bianchi, his old ballet teacher, waiting for him at the Namimori International Airport, sunglasses and all, he nearly did a double-take. He blinked once, twice, to make sure he wasn’t seeing things when he was suddenly squished by long arms.

“Tsuna!” Bianchi said, nuzzling his hair. “Oh, I missed your hair—and you, don’t worry—but I missed your hair the most! It’s still fluffy and soft just like I remembered!”

Tsuna patted her arm weakly. “Bianchi—breathe—can’t breathe!”

“Oh, sorry, sorry.” Bianchi pulled away with a sheepish grin. “You don’t look that terrible. Not what I expected, to be honest. I thought you’d lose a lot of weight—Well, you’re still a bit thin. Really, you should eat more. It’s not good for you.”

Tsuna couldn’t help but smile. Bianchi might be overbearing sometimes, but she was one of the few people who actually looked out for him. There were countless times when she lent a shoulder for him to cry on. She’d sing him sweet lullabies in her native Italian tongue and tell him stories about her little brother, Gokudera, one of the rising junior stars in the figure-skating world, who she lost contact with. Tsuna didn’t get a chance to actually meet him, but he knew that the boy had been at the Grand Prix Finals to watch Reborn skate like everyone else.

“Why are you here, Bianchi?” he said. 

Sighing, Bianchi slung an arm around his shoulder. “Why wouldn’t I be here? Don’t you miss me?” 

“No.” 

“Brat.”

Tsuna laughed when Bianchi brought him into a headlock and ruffled his hair. “Okay, okay, yeah, I missed you.” 

“Duh.”

He rolled his eyes playfully when she flicked some of her hair over her shoulder. But honestly, he did find miss Bianchi and a few of his friends back in Namimori, just not his family.

“Come on,” Bianchi said, letting him go. “I’ll give you a ride.”

“You don’t have to,” Tsuna said, rolling his suitcase behind him.

“I’m not taking no for an answer, brat, so get in the car.”

“I don’t think you’re doing it right. Where’s my candy?”

Bianchi groaned. “Don’t make me have second thoughts.”

Tsuna grinned cheekily, but followed her anyways. He supposed it was better than getting recognized on the bus or in the streets. He wasn’t ready to confront any questions from people or _see_ anyone in general.

Bianchi turned on the engine and reversed out of the parking spot. “Tell me, how’d it feel to see Reborn up-close?”

Tsuna flushed. “It was…amazing.”

Bianchi sighed dreamily. “I bet. That man’s just too perfect for words, I swear.”

Tsuna nodded. It really was a whole other experience to see Reborn skate in-person. He was a living legend—a one-in-a-million skater—having won five consecutive World Championships, five successive Grand Prix Finals, and countless European competitions. Tsuna had first seen Reborn skate on TV when the man was 13 in the Junior Grand Prix Finals. He would never forget how the young Italian took the world by storm with his powerful performance to _Mariage D’amoure_. How someone so young could be so exquisitely expressive baffled just about everyone. He had won first place and even created another world record, which hadn’t been broken since. Gokudera was the only competitor to come close very recently.

Still, Reborn became a worldwide sensation. It was only fitting to call him the world’s greatest male figure skater to ever live, a title Reborn stated quite proudly on some occasions. He was devilishly charming and knew how to play to the crowds when he was off the rink; however, once he took the icy stage, he became a different person altogether.

Tsuna had studied Reborn’s long program religiously after the Grand Prix Finals. It was so beautifully done that Tsuna actually cried when he first saw it (not that he hadn’t shed some tears to Reborn’s past performances). The choreography meshed perfectly with the music— _Pas de Deux_ from “The Nutcracker”—that it just took Tsuna’s breath away. He had also been a bit stunned. The piece was something no one wouldn't expect Reborn to skate to due to his sophisticated and cool appearance, but he made it _work_ and that was all that mattered.

The music was conventionally skated to by pair skaters, but when the harp’s first notes filled the stadium, Reborn had moved seamlessly to the hauntingly beautiful melody. He looked like he was dancing by himself and with someone imaginary at the same time, captivating the audience. Tsuna sometimes wondered what the program would look like if Reborn had a partner, but remembered that no one could ever be considered his equal. He was in a world of his own, only blessing the audience with just glimpses of what occurred behind the curtains and leaving them wanting more.

“It was amazing,” Tsuna said. “I didn’t think I’d ever see him skate in-person. It’s like a dream. Sometimes I still think it is.”

Bianchi grinned. “Well, it wasn’t a dream so you’re blessed with the image of that gorgeous man forever!”

Tsuna huffed. “When you say it like that, I sound like a crazy fan.” 

“I’m not the one with his posters all over my bedroom wall.”

Tsuna blushed. “Hey, that was just a phase when I was a kid!”

Bianchi snorted. “You’re 23 now, Tsuna. That’s _way_ past your 9-year-old self.” She smirked. “But I understand. You know, it’s normal for boys your age to—”

“Oh, my God, keep your mouth shut, woman!” 

“ _Excuse_ me? I’m the same age as Reborn!” 

“No, you’re not. You’re probably in your fifties.” 

“ _What?_ ”

“Bianchi, keep your eyes on the road!”

She managed to drive back into lane and slowed down to the normal speed limit, barely hitting another car. Tsuna sighed before scowling at the snickering woman.

“I swear, if I die, it’s on _you_.”

“Oh, don’t be such a wuss. You’re still alive.”

Tsuna rolled his eyes. “You’re the one driving, not me.”

“I can kick you out right now.”

“You’re a wonderful, beautiful human being who deserves only my humble servitude.”

Bianchi snorted. “Yeah, yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

The more-like-a-statement question struck a nerve he didn’t expect. Running a hand through his hair, Tsuna sighed. “Kawahira-san called you, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, just before you let Italy. How was it by the way?”

Tsuna smiled. “It was great. I hope I can visit again someday.”

Bianchi snickered. “To stalk Reborn?”

To her surprise, Tsuna didn’t retort with a smart comment. Instead, he just looked out the window at the passing scenery. “I’ll probably never meet him again. I…Did you know Renchan died three years ago?”

Bianchi immediately sobered up. “Yeah, but…how did you find out?”

Tsuna laughed bitterly. “So you were holding it from me, too?”

Bianchi sighed. “Tsuna, you were out of the country and—Okay, it probably didn’t sound like a good idea then, but you couldn’t get distracted, not when you were training so hard for the Grand Prix. I know how much Renchan meant to you.” She narrowed her eyes. “How did you find out anyway?”

Tsuna spat out his words. “Ieyasu told me.” He gasped when Bianchi suddenly swerved to the side and slammed the brakes, nearly flying out of his seat if his seatbelt hadn’t held him back. “Bia—”

He flinched when she glared at him, her green eyes venomous. “ _What_?” Tsuna couldn’t get the words out until Bianchi started cursing up a storm. “My God, when I get my hands on that little shit, I’m going to fucking _kill_ him!”

Tsuna let out a weak laugh. “Join the club.”

“Explain, Ts—” Bianchi widened her eyes before looking at him, horrified. “Don’t tell me—”

“I shouldn’t have looked at my phone,” Tsuna said quietly, looking down at his hands. “But it wasn’t off and he _knew_. I fucked up, Bianchi.”

A beat of silence passed between them. Some cars drove past them, a brief rising and fading whir in Tsuna’s ears.

“Tsuna…”

“I don’t know, but I—I fucked up. I just couldn’t—I couldn’t _think_. I was just so angry.”

He jumped when Bianchi placed a hand on his shoulder. Her face was marred with sympathy, but it only made his heart ache. He didn’t deserve that.

“Tsuna, it _wasn’t_ your fault.” She scowled. “What Ieyasu did was fucked up, but it _wasn’t_ your fault. Your emotions got the better of you, but that’s _okay_ because you’re human. Anyone would’ve reacted the same way.”

“I couldn’t even get a decent standing…”

“Tsuna, no one’s going to care if you got a medal or not. Your ranking in some competition isn’t going to define you for the rest of your life. So what if you fucked up? You’re still young and you have a promising career ahead of you. You’ll blow everyone away when you come out the next time, right? Don’t beat yourself up for it. In fact, I’m going to beat the hell out of that little shit.”

“I’m not going back.”

Bianchi widened her eyes. “What?”

“I’m not skating again.”

“Tsuna, what are you saying?”

“Nothing I do is ever good enough. I’m just tired, Bianchi. I don’t want to face that again.”

“But you love skating, and you _are_ good at it!”

Laughing, Tsuna just shook his head. “I trained five years for something that was bound to be impossible in the first place. It was a miracle that I even got _in_ the finals. You saw me—I was terrible.”

“Because you heard something you shouldn’t have. That was out of your control.”

“Still, I shouldn’t have let it get to my head. And this season wasn’t even that great for me either. I screwed up so many times. Why do I even bother?”

“That’s it.”

Tsuna tensed when Bianchi stepped on the gas pedal. “What are you _doing_?”

Bianchi’s knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. “Driving.”

“I can see that, but _where_ are you going?”

“To get those shitty thoughts out of your head.”

“I thought you wanted Iey—”

“Don’t even _speak_ his name because I won’t hesitate to turn the car around and _run_ him over.”

Silence.

“I wouldn’t mi—”

“ _Tsuna._ ”

Tsuna wisely kept his mouth shut for the rest of the ride.

* * *

“Tsuna-kun!”

Tsuna barely braced himself when Kyoko jumped on him, pulling him into a big hug. “Hey, Kyoko-chan.”

She beamed. “I didn’t know you were back!”

Tsuna chuckled sheepishly. “Actually, I just came back a while ago.”

“What? Why didn’t I hear about this?”

“Because he’s terribly stupid,” Bianchi said, walking through the doors. “Hey, Kyoko-chan.”

Kyoko smiled. “Bianchi-san, how are you? It’s been a while.”

Bianchi nodded. “I’m fine, thanks.” She looked around the family-owned ice-skating rink, taking in the fresh, bright yellow walls and colorful flowers Haru had painted. “You take care of the place pretty well.”

Kyoko clapped her hands together. “Of course! Skaters deserve the best place to practice and train after all!” She gasped. “Oh, Tsuna, did you come here to skate? It’s been so long! And you _have_ to tell me how it was abroad! I missed you so much! And so did Onii-san, Haru-chan, and Hana-chan!”

“Oh, I—”

Bianchi quickly interrupted him. “Yup, he’s here to skate. Sorry we came when you were closing up.”

Kyoko shook her head. “Not a problem at all! You caught me just in time. Follow me!”

Tsuna had no choice but to be dragged and shoved into the changing room.

* * *

“I don’t see the point in this, Bianchi.”

“Are you warmed up yet?”

Tsuna sighed as he shook his arms and legs, hopping a little. “Yeah.”

Tsuna rolled his eyes. “That’s easier said than done. It’s been a while since I’ve been in the ri—” He squeaked when Bianchi threw a slipper at his face. “What the hell?” 

“Don’t make me repeat myself, brat!”

“Okay, okay, geez.”

Kyoko cupped her mouth with her hands when he skated onto the rink. “You can do this, Tsuna-kun! Ah, this is so exciting! I missed watching you skate in-person. It’s completely different from watching you on the screen.”

Tsuna circled around the rink to get accustomed to the smooth, clean ice. He smiled slightly. “Don’t get your hopes up. I’m pretty rusty.”

Kyoko smiled. “It doesn’t matter because you’re always so much happier when you’re on the ice! I don’t mind as long as you’re smiling!”

That made Tsuna pause. He stared at Kyoko’s bright face for a moment before looking away with a sigh. “I guess…”

“Oi, any day now!” Bianchi said from the bleachers. “No dillydallying!”

Tsuna rolled his eyes. “Geez, how old _are_ you?”

Kyoko laughed when Bianchi entered another one of her furious tirades. Really, she was just too easy to rile up sometimes. Tsuna finally skated to the center, his legs buzzing in anticipation. His fingers tingled when he soon relaxed into a pose he had seen a million times. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, forcing his body to relax. A small buzz prickled in his ears, but he closed his eyes to withdraw deep within himself, blocking out any distractions.

It was only him and the ice now.

The harp’s familiar scales soon filled the arena—and Tsuna took off. The strings soon joined with a soft harmony as his skates glided seamlessly on the ice, the light scrapes almost soundless yet soothing in his ears. His arms moved in tandem to the music’s beat, his legs entering a fluid and graceful step sequence that he studied and marveled over for days.

A cool breeze caressed his flushed cheeks while Tsuna moved elegantly across the ice. The world sped up around him, his feet crossing over each other as he skated backwards to prepare for the first jumping combination. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and he forgot how alive he felt on the ice, how much he _missed_ this feeling. Turning, he almost smiled in childish delight when he heard the satisfying sound of the blade being pushed into the ice.

A shiver ran up his spine when Tsuna slightly bent forward and jumped. He didn’t even think when he rotated rapidly in mid-air, completing the quadruple flip, and leapt again to enter a triple toe. A small breath escaped his lips when he landed perfectly both times, but that didn’t stop him from moving.

His hands reached out in front of him, chasing and begging for something so beautiful to return, before he pulled them back against his chest and tossed his head in the air, spinning smoothly in a semi-circle. His legs never wavered as he entered another gorgeous step sequence. Reborn was truly a genius choreographer.

Tsuna continued pursuing that imaginary entity across the ice. He had no clue to what “it” was for Reborn, but the concept fit so perfectly with the routine and the music that he just lost himself completely in the moment—desperately chasing something so hopeful and yet so utterly lost, which brushed painfully, but gently, against his fingertips. His breath hitched when he jumped in the air with a forward takeoff, kicking the same takeoff leg backwards, and landed in an upright spin on his right foot. Kyoko gasped behind him, the soft sound disappearing in the brass instruments’ steady crescendo.

Tsuna’s breath hitched. He could hear his heart pound painfully against his chest over the explosion of brass and strings, but his arms still moved, entering their own little dance, while his feet slid into another difficult step sequence. In, out, spin, turn, reach, stretch, _catch it_. He jumped again. Triple Lutz— _Renchan_ —double toe loop— _Don’t leave me_ —triple Salchow— _I’m sorry._ His arms reached out again, and one hand lowered gracefully over his head as he bowed halfway, his left leg carrying his weight halfway across the ice.

His ears nearly burst when the cymbals crashed, but he had to keep going, keep moving. He couldn’t stop—wouldn’t. The tempo picked up its pace and so did he. Reborn had moved through the second half with such passion, it almost looked desperate, like he had succumbed to the chase’s primitive nature and forgot why he had started in the first place. His face, stoic and composed outside of the rink, had contorted into something akin to quiet agony on the ice. It had been so subtle, so minuscule, that Tsuna had to rewind the program multiple times to catch that expression again.

The harp and violins returned again, slowing his pace. The chase was still ongoing and he couldn’t stop. He lifted his back leg straight behind him as he glided around the edges of the rink. For a few seconds, he could breathe again. Bracing himself, he turned and prepped for the final jump. His legs slightly shook while he gained speed, but the cool breeze tousled his hair as if to say, “it’s okay”. So he jumped. The air whistled around him while he rotated—triple axel—his hands closed in against his chest. He stuck the landing.

Soon, he sped up again. It was so close, he could feel it. The violins’ sweet, sad serenade embraced his frame, the timpani’s steady beat keeping him in line. But why was he still afraid? His hand reached out again as he turned, the blades of his skates smoothly carrying him over. The woodwinds’ quick staccato drew him into a short sequence again before he pushed forcefully into a spin circle. He slowly brought his left leg down and drew his arms closer to his body, accelerating exponentially. The timpani rolled into a steady, pulsing rhythm; the violins soon guided the last beats followed by the horns and woodwinds. At the last second, Tsuna exited gracefully, bringing his hand over his mouth, and directed his gaze downwards.

The music ended with an abrupt, synchronized beat.

A sudden hush fell over the arena. Tsuna didn’t dare to breathe, as if the moment’s magic would disappear once it realized it didn’t have him in its grasp anymore. He closed his eyes to bask in the last few seconds of his high. Sweat dripped down his face and his shirt stuck to his skin, but he didn’t care.

Finally, he relaxed out of the pose. Opening his eyes, Tsuna blinked to adjust to the suddenly unfamiliar sight. The lights in the rink were somewhat low and cast an almost ethereal glow on his skin. He found enough energy to skate towards the exit, his muscles aching but refreshed. Bianchi and Kyoko were gaping at him, the latter with tears in her eyes.

“Kyoko-chan?” he said, his voice breathless. “What’s wrong?” He huffed a small laugh. “Was it that bad?”

He stumbled when she suddenly ran over to hug him. Was she…really crying?

“Tsuna-kun, that was… _beautiful_.” 

It was probably just to make him feel better, but Tsuna couldn’t help but smile anyways.

* * *

It was a good thing that Tsuna’s parents owned an onsen or else they would’ve freaked out on him even more when Bianchi accompanied him all the way home.

Grabbing one of Tsuna’s suitcases, she promptly found herself a room, not caring how rude she seemed. She didn’t even greet his parents properly, just offering them a dismissive wave, and tossed a bundle of cash on their front counter.

Tsuna took great satisfaction in seeing Ieyasu flinch when Bianchi had marched through the door. If anyone terrified Ieyasu, it was Bianchi (it had nothing to do with the fact that she sometimes deliberately poisoned his food with laxatives when he was younger). Still, Tsuna greeted his parents with a small bow and politely refused their offer for dinner. He was relieved to hear that Renchan had died from old age and not from disease, but it still pained him to think that he wasn’t there for his dog in his last moments and all the more furious at his brother.

He had ignored the way his father glared at his back when he headed to his room. It would definitely bite him in the ass later, but he’d try to excuse it as exhaustion, which wasn’t that far off from the truth.

Sighing, Tsuna sank deeper in one of the private hot springs, relishing the warm water that soothed his aching muscles. The door slid open then and he could hear the soft pitter-patter of feet slowly approach behind him.

Ieyasu’s voice echoed in the steamy room. “Tou-san’s really pissed.”

Tsuna closed his eyes. “Leave me alone.”

“Didn’t you see Renchan? He’s in the backyard like I told you. I thought you’d want to see him first when you came back.”

“Are you deaf?”

The little shit continued talking, “Kaa-san’s also sad you won’t talk to her.”

Tsuna restrained the urge to sigh. “ _Leave_.”

“She was also upset when she saw your performance.” Ieyasu laughed, which grated Tsuna’s ears. “Wow, it was just—I don’t anything about the stupid sport, but even I knew you fucked up big time. It was pretty hilarious honestly.”

“Shut the hell up and get _out_.” 

“What do you think Reborn thought about it, huh? Probably thought why a useless person like you would even _touch_ the sport in the first place. Really, Nii-san, there’s no point in trying because you’re just going to fuck things up anyway.”

Before Tsuna could grab his brother and pull him into his watery death, the door abruptly slid open. A towel-clad Bianchi stood at the doorway, her eyes murderous. Tsuna and Ieyasu both flinched for different reasons. One wondered why Bianchi was around the private areas in the first place while the other knew that he shouldn’t have forgotten about the deadly scorpion in his home.

Bianchi smiled sweetly at Ieyasu who paled even more. “Care to repeat that, dear?”

Ieyasu just squeaked pathetically and scrambled out the door, tripping twice before he managed to run past the terrifying woman. Bianchi just clicked her tongue. Tsuna widened his eyes when she sauntered into the room, closing the door behind her.

“B—Bianchi, what are you doing here?” 

“To relax, obviously. Are you that dumb?”

Stepping inside the onsen, thankfully with her towel still on, Bianchi let out a content sigh as she basked in the water. Tsuna gaped when she slung her arms around the outer edge of the pool.

“Close your mouth. You’re going to swallow a fly.”

Tsuna snapped his mouth shut and looked anywhere but Bianchi, turning redder. “Y—You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I’m a paying customer and I can do whatever I want. Besides, a little nudity doesn’t hurt.” Bianchi glanced at the door. “Seriously though, how long is he going to keep his hair orange? It’s been, what, a year I think?”

Tsuna just shrugged. “I don’t give a crap.” He scowled. “If he’d just leave me alone, I’d be even happier.”

Bianchi sighed. “You’re right. You know what you need? A knight in shining armor to whisk you far away from this place. I’ll gladly be your maid of honor.”

Tsuna nearly choked when he accidentally drank some water. He coughed out of reflex and felt Bianchi pat his back to help him ride it out. “W—What?” 

“I said a k—” 

“I _heard_ what you said, but seriously, what the hell?”

Bianchi shrugged. “That’s the way I see it.”

Tsuna scowled. “Don’t try to turn my life into one of those crappy romance novels you read.”

“Hey, love is pure and beautiful, okay? You’ll learn to love it someday, too.”

She snickered at what she said, but Tsuna didn’t. He just stared at her like she grew three heads. “Well, if love is _so_ pure and beautiful, why aren’t you married?”

“That’s because I haven’t met the right person yet.”

“Uh-huh—probably never will.”

Tsuna squeaked and barely dodged Bianchi’s grabby hand in time. The water sloshed around them as she stood up, her brow twitching. “Care to repeat that, sweetheart?”

“The day you get married is when pigs fly.” 

“Why you little—Get back here!” 

If anyone noticed the loud laughter, squeals, and splashing water from the private sections, no one said anything.

* * *

_Look at this, Renato. It’s exactly like yours! And he’s so adorable!_

It wasn’t every day Reborn received a text from Luce when she was so busy taking care of her own family. Still, he clicked on the link she sent anyways. He didn’t even blink when he saw the young man in the video: Tsunayoshi Sawada, the figure skater from Japan who performed disastrously in his long program (and poorly throughout the season). It was both easy and hard to forget the routine. Easy because of how utterly mediocre it was, hard because of how terrible it was.

When _Pas de Deux_ filtered in the air, Reborn couldn’t help but watch Tsunayoshi glide across the ice, his arms moving exactly like how Reborn did in the Grand Prix Finals. In fact, the young man skated his program perfectly, even down to the expressions, which Reborn thought no one ever really noticed. However, that wasn’t what caught his attention—it was the way Tsunayoshi moved with such grace and passion that he had lacked throughout the season.

Where was _this_ skater at the Grand Prix Finals?

Leon, his Doberman, leapt gracefully onto the couch just as Tsunayoshi pulled off Reborn’s first jump combination. The take-off was a little shaky, but he got the right rotations and stuck his landings. Soon, Reborn found himself slowly sucked into the desperate chase Tsunayoshi pursued on the ice, perfectly imitating his interpretation but somehow making it his own at the same time. Though the routine was recorded with a phone at a distance, Reborn could still make out the young man’s face contorted into genuine agony and grief.

Ah, that seemed more personal.

Reborn didn’t realize he was still staring at the skater until the video ended. For a few minutes, his mind reeled as it tried processing what he just watched. Standing up, he grabbed his cup of espresso and slowly sipped the rich liquid, sighing quietly when it reached his tongue. He stared out into the streets of Rome, which bustled with pedestrians and tourists, lively as ever.

He soon dialed a number on his phone and patiently waited for the line to pick up. When it did, he spoke briefly, “A ticket to Namimori, Japan tomorrow morning. Send it tonight.”

His lips twitched into a smirk when he hung up. This was definitely an interesting development. He’d have to thank Luce later when the time called for it.


	2. Chapter 2

Something tickled his nose, which slowly eased him away from his slumber.

Groaning, Tsuna turned over and pulled his covers higher over his head. The same tickling sensation, though more muted, nudged his hair before a heavy weight curled around his head. The brunet sighed, knowing the sneaky culprit. He reached out and petted Natsu’s orange fur, earning a small purr in response.

“Mornin’, Natsu,” Tsuna mumbled. “Let me sleep, ‘kay?”

Natsu was an adorable orange tabby that Tsuna found on the streets before he left Japan. Sweet but intelligent, Natsu quickly took a liking to Tsuna and even Renchan, though rarely got close with his parents or Ieyasu, which Tsuna rewarded with cuddles and kisses. Natsu did grow a lot since Tsuna left and never left his side, preferring his company to wandering in the streets. Tsuna didn’t know whether to find it endearing or worrying. He was pretty sure cats weren’t supposed to act like that.

Shifting, Tsuna patted the spot beside him. Natsu immediately moved from his hair to curl next to his face. Tsuna gently held the cat in his arms, carefully stroking Natsu’s fur. His heart ached for Renchan, but he had to move on eventually, even if it was going to be hell. Still, he couldn’t help but miss his dog.

As if sensing his owner’s dilemma, Natsu licked Tsuna’s chin, making the other laugh. Tsuna nuzzled the cat’s neck. “It’s just you and me now, Natsu,” he murmured. 

Suddenly, the door slammed open, making him and Natsu jump. Tsuna yelped when Bianchi stormed in his room with a crazed look in her eyes. 

“B—Bianchi, what are you doing here?” he said, hugging Natsu tighter to his chest. 

Natsu bared his fangs and hissed. Bianchi paid them no mind and just shoved her phone in Tsuna’s face, barely missing Natsu’s clawed swipe. “Tsuna, look!” she said.

Tsuna squinted before reaching for his glasses from his nightstand and putting them on. He adjusted them carefully while he read the article. His jaw dropped. “Wait, isn’t that _me_? Why is Kyoko-chan’s rink in the background? What is this?”

Bianchi smirked. “Well, Kyoko recorded your little routine and _had_ to put it online. Look, you already reached over a million views! People love it!”

“That’s not the point! Why did you upload that? It’s embarrassing!”

Bianchi just rolled her eyes. “Tsuna, come on, you did _phenomenally_. I’ve never seen you skate like this before, _ever_.” She grinned. “There’s also rumors that Reborn watched it himself. Isn’t that great?”

Tsuna widened his eyes. Reborn watching _that_? He was torn between being elated or horrified. The routine wasn’t even that great, but the article gushed about how well he skated to Reborn’s program and that many were hoping for a strong comeback for the next season, which would’ve made him happy if he weren’t so miserable (the author was so obviously Kozato Makoto, Tsuna didn’t even have to look _twice_ ; it was nice that the man believed in him, but Tsuna really wasn’t in the mood).

“That’s impossible,” he muttered, stroking Natsu’s fur to calm the cat down.

“Oh my God, Tsuna, _lighten_ up! Never underestimate the power of the internet!” Bianchi perked up. “You know what you need? Another dose of Reborn-immersion!”

Tsuna and even Natsu stared at her like she grew fifteen heads. “A what of what now?” he said.

Bianchi wasn’t even listening. She was already shifting through his closet and throwing clothes at his face. Grunting, Tsuna mentally smacked himself. Bianchi _planned_ this. She was even already dressed to go out.

“Hurry up and change, Tsuna!”

Natsu leapt away to avoid getting hit by Tsuna’s flying clothes, the traitor. The brunet wrinkled his note when he lifted up one of his favorite orange sweatshirts. Well, at least, Bianchi had fashion sense.

“Where are you taking me?”

Bianchi gave him a bright grin. “On the way for another Reborn-immersion!” 

Tsuna groaned into his hand. “Stop _saying_ that. It sounds creepy. Can’t you give me a clear answer for once, you crazy woman?”

“What was that? You wanted to wear that cute rabbit hoodie I got you when you were fourteen? I’m pretty sure it’d still fit you. Actually, why not? You only wore it once.”

Tsuna bolted from his bed and shoved the cackling woman out his door. “Get _out_!”

Slamming the door in Bianchi’s snickering face had never felt so satisfying.

* * *

Tsuna walked down the stairs after putting on his hellish contacts with Natsu trailing behind him. He grabbed an apple from the kitchen and bit a chunk of it, making a small crunch.

“Tsu-kun, aren’t you going to eat breakfast with us?” Nana said from the dining table.

“No, I’m busy,” Tsuna said, slipping on his boots. 

“Tsuna, don’t talk to your mother like that,” Iemitsu said sternly. “Sit down. We need to talk.”

Rolling his eyes, Tsuna turned to address his father. Natsu rubbed against his ankle comfortingly. “As I said, I’m very busy at the moment. We can talk later.”

Ieyasu snorted. “Busy with what? You’re jobless.”

“I don’t see you contributing anything, jackass.”

They both jumped when Iemitsu slammed his fist on the table. Natsu hissed.  “Don’t use that language in my house, Sawada Tsunayoshi,” Iemitsu said, glaring. Ah, fuck, the full name came out. “You’re going to sit down and we’re going to talk.”

Bianchi, thank God, honked her horn outside, indicating him to hurry up. Tsuna just left, slamming the door behind him and ignoring his father’s angry shouts. Rubbing his arms for some warmth, Tsuna dashed down the steps with Natsu jogging beside him. He looked down at the cat in exasperated fondness. “Natsu, you should stay home,” he said. “It’s cold outs—”

He yelped when he bumped into something hard and nearly slipped on the icy footpath if a hand hadn’t grabbed him. Tsuna managed to regain his footing after a few seconds. His legs trembled and he cursed at the slippery walkway. Natsu stayed close by his feet, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Shit,” Tsuna said, looking up. “Thank…you…”

Familiar dark eyes looked back at him, making his breath hitch. His mind short-circuited for a moment as he tried to comprehend the fact that _Reborn_ was right in front of him, dressed in a long black overcoat, gloves, and his signature fedora resting on his spiky hair.

Holy shit, was Tsuna dreaming?

Reborn raised a brow. “It’d be such a waste for me to only exist in your dreams.”

Tsuna blinked. Wait, did he say that out loud? And how did Reborn speak Japanese so fluently? 

“No. You’re just easy to read. And I know many languages. Care to learn which ones?”

Tsuna could feel his cheeks heat up and quickly shook his head to get rid of any more unnecessary thoughts. For one, Reborn was here. Two, goddamn this snow and ice. Three, what the _fuck_ is Reborn doing here? In Japan? In _Namimori_ of all places? This town was practically nonexistent on the map.

“Um, what are you doing here, Reborn-san?” he said slowly.

Reborn’s lips twitched into a slight smirk, making Tsuna’s heartbeat race several miles a minute. Kami, he was going to drop dead for sure now. 

“To book a room,” Reborn said. “This is the Sawada Onsen, correct?”

Tsuna wanted to bash his head against the floor. Of course Reborn was here to book a room. What kind of question was that? Well, he was obviously heading towards Tsuna’s family onsen house and…that didn’t really answer what Tsuna meant to say, but he was already too tongue-tied to talk again. So instead, he flailed his arm uselessly in the air behind him, gesturing towards the large onsen house.

“Well, yes. I mean, it’s labeled right there.”

Tsuna winced. Okay, maybe he should’ve said that a tad nicer with a pinch less salt. He glanced down to see that Reborn’s hand was still wrapped firmly around his arm and flushed. Kami, he was reverting into a schoolgirl with a crush. Fuck. He tapped Reborn’s shoulder hesitantly and pointed at the man’s large hand. “Could you, um, let me go, please?” he said.

Bianchi, the damn witch, chose that time to get out of her car and yell at him, “Tsuna, what the hell are you doing?”

Tsuna turned around to see her walking towards him before squeaking when he slipped. He hissed when he fell onto his butt and winced when pain shot up his spine.

“Fuck!” he said, glaring at a smirking Reborn. “I said to let go, not make me _fall_!”

“I let go and you fell on your own,” Reborn said. “Don’t blame me for your own clumsiness.”

Bianchi looked murderous marching towards them, her eyes narrowed on Reborn’s back. She grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him to turn around, but it looked like Reborn let her. Tsuna seriously doubted the man would actually go with what people wanted, and he was too late in warning Bianchi about who she was about to pummel to the ground.

Bianchi opened her mouth to spew out some choice words until she saw Reborn’s face. A small, strangled squeak escaped her lips, which would’ve been funny if Tsuna wasn’t so irritated. He slowly rose to his feet with Natsu standing by as some kind of moral support. At least he had one person on his side. He was pretty sure Bianchi went to heaven at this point. He just had to wait until she came back.

“Yes?” Reborn said.

Bianchi stammered out some unintelligible words before grabbing Tsuna and dragging him away. “I’ll make sure the brat learns to never mess with you again, sir! Don’t worry!”

“I hope you fall on the steps, asshole!” Tsuna yelled over his shoulder.

He yelped when Bianchi smacked his head and reached to rub the sore spot. “What the hell?”

“He says he’s sorry for ever disgracing your presence!” Bianchi shouted at Reborn, who just watched them leave with a quirked brow.

She shoved Tsuna in the passenger seat and dashed over to take the wheel. For a second, neither of them spoke. Natsu hopped onto Tsuna’s lap, somehow following him to Bianchi’s car. Tsuna wasn’t complaining though. He stroked the cat’s fur to calm his own nerves.

“Please tell me that wasn’t who I thought it was,” Bianchi said, her voice strained.

“No, it was Colonello Altieri,” Tsuna deadpanned.

Bianchi raised a trembling hand and stared at it, horrified. “I grabbed…Reborn. Oh my God, I _grabbed_ Reborn and was about to _punch_ him in the face.”

“It would’ve been greatly appreciated if you actually did until you stopped functioning.”

“Shut up! I thought he was some asshole who tripped you or something! Why are you so damn clumsy?”

“Excuse me? He bumped into me! Right, Natsu?”

Natsu just snuggled against Tsuna’s stomach, not even bothering to offer a response. Traitor. 

Bianchi rested her forehead on the steering wheel. “Oh my God. Is he still there?”

“I don’t know.”

A beat of silence.

“And I’m not looking.”

Frowning, Bianchi jammed her keys into the ignition. Tsuna nodded solemnly as she drove out into the streets. His heart eventually returned to its normal pace when they entered a small highway. Bianchi suddenly giggled. “I _touched_ Reborn. I actually touched him.”

“Please refrain from speaking,” Tsuna said slowly.

“His _muscles_ and oh my God, his face! It’s so much better in person! He’s _so_ handsome! Thank you, Lord, for blessing us with a man of perfection.”

“You crazy woman, keep your eyes on the damn road!”

If Tsuna wasn’t going to die from meeting Reborn face-to-face, he was definitely going to die from getting hit by a truck.

* * *

Namimori Ice Palace—of course, Bianchi would bring Tsuna here.

He sighed when she literally kicked him out of the car and stumbled to regain his footing with Natsu close by his heels. He couldn’t do anything but follow Bianchi inside the suspiciously empty ice rink. Normally, the place would be filled with people, especially on the weekends. Today was Saturday.

“I booked the whole place for us,” Bianchi said, dragging him to the changing rooms. “So you can skate to your heart’s content!”

“When did you get that?” Tsuna said, narrowing his eyes when he noticed her carrying his duffle bag.

Bianchi rolled her eyes. “Oh please. You wouldn’t have brought it if I told you we were coming here. Now go change. I’ll be waiting!”

Cursing pink-haired women, sexy Italian men, and icy paths, Tsuna rested his forehead against the cool lockers and smacked it repeatedly until he finished counting to twenty. Natsu meowed quietly, nuzzling his head against Tsuna’s leg. The brunet couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m fine, Natsu,” he said, sighing. “Just great.”

After changing into his practice clothes and questioning his life, Tsuna grabbed his skates and walked out into the cool, empty rink. He slumped down next to Bianchi who was browsing through her phone.

“They’re saying that Reborn can’t be found anywhere,” she said. “Seems like no one knows he’s here yet.”

“And why _is_ he here?” Tsuna said, resting his feet on the bleacher below him.

Bianchi shrugged. “Maybe a vacation? He’s been competing since forever. I’d understand if he wanted to take a break.”

“But why Namimori? No one knows Namimori.”

Bianchi made a face. “ _You’re_ from Namimori, Tsuna. And did you also forget the fact that you’re an international competitor? People _know_ who you are. You can’t run away from that.”

Tsuna looked up at the ceiling. “Is it bad to say that I want to? Look, Bianchi, I told you—I’m not going to skate anymore. I’m done. I don’t care anymore. I don’t even know why I came here with you.”

“Stop saying that, Tsuna. You don’t mean that.”

Tsuna scowled. “Yes, I do. Are you going deaf? I said it yesterday and I’ll say it again— _I’m not skating anymore_.”

He jumped when Bianchi suddenly stood up. Her hands clenched into fists by her sides and her eyes reminded him of storm clouds. “Fine,” she said. “If that’s what you really want. You know what I hate about your shitty attitude? You keep acting as if there’s nothing you can do when there’s a fuck ton of stuff you _can_ do.” She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “I _know_ you’re just saying that to make others pity you, but it makes you look more pathetic than you really are.”

Tsuna stood up after. “What? You know, I didn’t _ask_ for Ieyasu to drop a fucking bomb on me at the finals; I didn’t _ask_ for my parents to constantly remind me that I’m shit; and I didn’t _ask_ for anyone’s pity. You’re delusional.”

“See? You’re doing it again.” 

“Doing what?”

“You keep playing the victim and it’s disgusting. Do you know how many other people are in your shoes? Plenty, and they’re doing better than you. They’re actually getting off their asses to make things better for themselves.”

Tsuna couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Excuse me? Playing the victim? Well, good for them. If you think I’m so disgusting, then why do you keep hanging around me?” 

Bianchi pursed her lips. “Because you’re better than this.”

“Well, I’m sorry if I couldn’t be any better than I am now. Take it up with your brother then. I heard he’s doing absolutely _fantastic_. Oh wait, you can’t, ‘cause he’s all the way in fucking Italy and never wants to see your face again.”

Sharp pain suddenly stung Tsuna’s cheek. The loud slap echoed in the rink, ringing hollowly in the air. Tsuna widened his eyes as Bianchi glowered at him. “Don’t _ever_ talk about Hayato like that again,” she said.

Tsuna could only gape at her back when she left the rink, the doors slamming shut behind her. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. He could hear his blood rush in his ears and his heart painfully beat against his chest. He stumbled back onto the bleacher, the loud thud echoing in the air. His hands shook while he tried to regain his bearings. He kicked the bleacher in front of him, making Natsu jump. “Fuck!”

Gripping his head, Tsuna let out a shaky breath and slowly counted to ten. “I’m a goddamn idiot. Shit.”

His thoughts swirled in an upending torrent in his head, making him feel nauseous. Kami, he just wanted to choke on his own vomit to death or maybe just give Bianchi the honors of personally killing him herself. Shit, Bianchi…

Tsuna was torn between running after her or giving her space, but he knew one thing: he was a fucking asshole. His eyes burned and he rubbed them with the heel of his palms. The darkness that clouded his vision then was very much appreciated, but he knew it couldn’t last forever. Natsu tentatively climbed onto his lap and licked his cheek to wipe away his tears.

“Natsu, don’t,” Tsuna said, blinking a couple of times to adjust to the lights above him.

Natsu meowed and nuzzled Tsuna’s cheek in a gesture of comfort. Still, Tsuna just continued staring out into the empty rink, taking note of how smooth the ice was. He would’ve immediately went out there and skated until reality became nothing but a distant dream; now, it just looked too far away. He couldn’t even bring himself to get up and move.

A distant clang made him perk up. “Bianchi?”

He blinked when he saw Reborn standing at the doorway and looking around. Soon, his eyes landed on Tsuna before he went back to inspecting the ice rink. 

Tsuna frowned. “How did you get in?” he said, his quiet voice sounding louder in the empty space.

“The doors were open,” Reborn said, slowly making his way down the steps. His footsteps echoed against the walls. “I suppose this will do.”

Tsuna furrowed his brows. “Excuse me?”

When Reborn finally stood in front of him, Tsuna couldn’t help but notice how tall he was. It was actually pretty intimidating, notwithstanding the fact that Tsuna was his major name.

“Did you warm-up yet?” Reborn said.

“I’m sorry, _why_ are you here again?”

“To see you skate. Isn’t that what you do here?”

Tsuna stared at him like he grew twenty heads. Reborn’s words repeated over and over in his head before it finally settled. “Are you saying that you came all the way to Namimori to watch me _skate_?”

“I’m glad that you’re a little bit smarter than you seem."

Tsuna could only gape at him, ignoring the insult. “Why?”

Reborn walked over to the small entrance of the rink and looked over the smooth ice. “I saw you skate to my program.” He smirked at Tsuna, making him flush. “I wanted to see it for myself.”

Tsuna didn’t know what to think. “Are you being serious? That wasn’t anything. I don’t know why my friend posted it online, but it was just a fluke. You wasted your time coming here. Besides, I’m not skating anymore. I’m done.” He grabbed his duffel bag and stood up with a small bow towards Reborn. “I’m sorry you came all the way out here for nothing, Reborn-san. At least I hope you enjoy your stay here. Namimori can’t compare to Italy but it’s nice enough.”

“I was under the impression that you wanted to stay longer for the next season.” Reborn’s voice made Tsuna pause in his step. “Your previous season was one of the worst I’ve ever witnessed. Even a child could skate better than you.”

Tsuna’s brow twitched. “Wow, thank you for your words of wisdom.”

“That was why I decided to come here and coach you,” Reborn said. Tsuna whirled around so fast, his neck nearly snapped. “But I guess not.”

Wait!” Tsuna said, his eyes wide. “What did you say?”

Reborn raised a brow, but his lips twitched into a knowing smile. “I don’t like repeating myself. But if you insist on not skating anymore, I’m not willing to coach an indisposed student.”

Tsuna tried to comprehend what Reborn was saying. “Why—I mean—Why would you—Are you—Wait, you—Coaching me?”

“Yes, I came here to coach you.”

Tsuna blinked a couple of times to make sure he really wasn’t dreaming. He gripped his duffel bag tightly. Reborn’s words still didn’t make sense.

“Why?” he said, grimacing when his voice cracked. “Why would you want to coach me? Are you…retiring?”

Reborn slowly tapped a gloved finger against the railings. “Who knows? But I came here to coach you. Think of it as an indefinite break for now.”

“But _why_? You said I was a bad skater. What the hell is in it for you anyways?”

Reborn pinned Tsuna to the spot with unnervingly sharp eyes, and Tsuna couldn’t help but feel bare under his gaze. “Yes, you’re bad, but you skated my program decently enough. Your coach, Kawahira, is good but not right for you. He’s stiff when he chooses programs for his skaters, which keeps you from branching out. Your long program at the Grand Prix Finals was terrible but not hopeless.”

Tsuna didn’t know what to think or say to that. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Reborn travelled all the way here just to _coach_ him. Okay, he was seriously dreaming.

“You aren’t dreaming.” Reborn’s voice snapped him out of his reverie. “I came here to coach you. Is your answer still no?” 

“I…I can’t skate.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

Tsuna swallowed a lump in his throat. “I—Both. You said it yourself: I’m terrible. That day at the finals, I fucked up. I—I can’t go back.”

“Look at me.”

Tsuna tensed but complied nonetheless. Reborn still looked impassive, a stark contrast to the man who skated on ice. “Yes, you performed terrible that day but you aren’t going to perform like that again,” Reborn said. “All you need to do is let me coach you. You’ll win the gold in the next Grand Prix.” He smirked. “There will be enough to last a lifetime, but you can only live for so long. Are you going to waste this opportunity I’m giving to you so nicely, Tsunayoshi?”

Tsuna clenched his hands into fists. He was already set on never going back on the ice. Not once did he ever think that he could go back again and face the audience. Bianchi…was right. Despite her harsh words, she was right. Tsuna wanted to scream, at his parents, at the people who doubted him, at everyone who kicked and beat him when he was younger.

All he wanted was for others to accept him, praise him, _like_ him, but all he ever did was whine about it. He didn’t push himself to do more than he could, always stopping before he could cross the edge—and he had one more chance to make everything right again. Still, maybe this was all a fluke, a huge elaborate set-up to make him look more like an idiot than he was at the finals. But there was still that stupid part of him that hoped this was real.

He exhaled slowly, savoring what few precious seconds he had left. “Why me?”

“You have raw talent—it’s just a pity that no one hasn’t fully extracted that yet.”

“And how do you know that you’re the right coach for me?”

Reborn smiled. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Tsuna restrained a sigh. Really, was the man always this insufferable? “Let me rephrase that then. How do I know I can trust you?”

“You don’t.” Reborn straightened himself. “Not unless you learn from me. So what is your answer?”

Tsuna glanced at the rink, taking in the smoothness of the pale ice. He could hear the ghost of his own skates gliding against the surface, a soft melody he couldn’t find anywhere else, feel the cool air kiss his cheeks and adrenaline pump through his veins before he leapt.

So how could he ever see himself letting all that go?

Reborn seemed to understand where Tsuna’s thought process was going, which was creepy but oddly reassuring, since he gestured at the rink behind him. “Warm up and get in,” he said. “We have the whole day to spare.”

Tsuna just nodded. He wasn’t going to fuck up again.

* * *

Okay, it was official—Tsuna was starting to regret taking Reborn’s offer because what the _fuck_ was this man’s training regimen?

Not even goddamn _steroids_ could compare to Reborn’s training. How the man wasn’t jacked up was something Tsuna could never understand. It was also only the first day, and he was pretty convinced that he made a contract with the devil.

Tsuna placed his hands on his knees after jumping for the millionth time and nearly collapsed from the extra weight if he hadn’t gripped onto the railing in time. Panting, he wiped away the sweat from his brow and almost glared at Reborn who skated towards him without much difficulty. He was tempted to just break the man’s legs if he could.

“You’re still forgetting to open your arms again in the air on the downward part of the jump,” Reborn said as if Tsuna wasn’t dying from the lack of oxygen in his lungs. “Again.”

Tsuna gritted his teeth. Not once did he complain during their training because he had some pride to acknowledge the fact that he _willingly_ took Reborn’s offer. Taking a few more seconds to forget the fact that his legs were reduced to jelly, Tsuna forced himself to skate around the ice again, entering laps to gather some speed.

Reborn stood to the side, wearing a black sweater instead of his coat and scarf with his fedora placed on the railings. Natsu was curled up on one of the bleachers, sleeping. Reborn watched Tsuna move with keen eyes in an otherwise lax position. “Your jumps are weak because of your core,” he said as Tsuna skated past him the third time. “We’ll have to work on that starting tomorrow. Move faster.”

Tsuna clenched his jaw. His legs crossed over each other while he skated backwards. He paused then to raise his right leg in front of him; the wind whistled around him when he jumped and rotated in the air. One, two—shit. He stumbled and skidded across the ice, wincing when his back hit the walls of the rink. Dull pain quaked through his body, but he ignored it.

Shaking his head, he stood up but nearly slipped if a pair of strong arms hadn’t steadied him. Tsuna blushed when he up righted himself against a lean torso and mumbled his thanks. He could feel Reborn’s chest vibrate when the man chuckled under his breath.

“Watch me.”

Tsuna almost shuddered when Reborn moved away, carrying his warmth with him. He forgot that soon when Reborn skated with blinding speed, almost becoming a blur. His breath hitched when Reborn leaped into the air, executing a perfect triple axel, before landing on the ice smoothly. He made it look so effortless…

“What is the difference?” Reborn said, skating towards him. 

Tsuna braced himself against the railing. “You actually got three and a half rotations in.” 

Reborn’s lips twitched into an amused smile. “Anything else more useful?”

Tsuna huffed. He ran the image of Reborn jumping again in his head, comparing it to his own jumps. It was much better to see in-person and he still couldn’t believe that _Reborn_ was actually coaching him, but he digressed.

“Your core,” he said. “You held it in along with your spine and waist.”

“You have a brain,” Reborn said, leaning against the walls and ignoring the way Tsuna rolled his eyes. “What else?”

Tsuna pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “You took off from the forward outside edge of your left foot. Was I doing the opposite _again_?” He sighed. “It’s such a pain to pull off.” He yelped when Reborn knocked him over the head with his fist, almost stumbling to the ground again. He glared at the smirking man. “What the hell was that for?”

“Gravity pulls the human body at a force of 9.81 meters per second,” Reborn said. “A jump is also contributed by other forces: velocity across the ice and centrifugal force created by the jump’s spin rotation. The practicalities behind jumping include correct body positions, the distribution of weight, rhythm and timing, so on and so forth. The triple Axel is difficult because it’s the only jump with a forward takeoff. Are you listening, Tsuna?”

How Tsuna got his name reduced from Tsunayoshi to Tsuna was also a mystery. It was almost intimate. Reborn crossed his arms over his chest. “Pay attention,” he said. “Did you get anything I said?”

Tsuna blinked. “Um, yeah. Totally. Gravity, velocity, cen—centri—centrigal force—”

“Centrifugal force,” Reborn said. 

“Yeah, that.”

“I’m going to quiz you on this later.” 

Tsuna gaped at him. “Wait, _what_? This isn’t school!”

Reborn smirked almost cruelly. “Oh, yes, it is. Welcome to Reborn’s School of Figure Skating for Idiots. Congratulations on your admittance. Didn’t we go over this already?”

“No!"

Reborn didn’t seem fazed. “Since the triple Axel depends on a forward takeoff, you’ll have to spin more rapidly in order to complete all the rotations. Your body isn’t aligned properly in the air and you’re not taking off correctly either. Your ankle, knee, and hip have to work together to push you up. You’re only relying on your ankle.”

Sighing, Tsuna rubbed his eyes. “Okay.”

Reborn glanced at his watch and skated towards the exit. “Keep that in mind for tomorrow.”

Thanking every god that existed, Tsuna followed him outside the rink. He collapsed on the bleacher and laid there for a while. His body felt awfully heavy and his sweaty clothes felt disgusting on his skin. A nice, hot bath would do the trick. Tsuna pursed his lips when he remembered the events from earlier in the day. His father would definitely skin him alive when he got back and Bianchi…

His cheek still ached from the slap she gave him hours ago.

Tsuna sighed again before forcing himself to sit up, petting Natsu who appeared by his side. Reborn had already removed his skates and slipped on his coat. Tsuna’s fingers shook while he tried untying his laces. He cursed when he could barely get the double knot loose until a pair of large hands swooped down to untie them for him. Tsuna blinked when he realized Reborn was unfastening the laces. He could only stare as long, strong fingers quickly loosened the knots. He didn’t understand how Reborn could make untying laces look so elegant.

“Oh, um, thank you,” Tsuna said.

Reborn raised a brow. “I don’t understand how you can be this clumsy.”

He slipped off his skates as soon as he entered the changing rooms and tossed them aside. Rubbing his face, Tsuna let out a choked laugh. Natsu rubbed his leg comfortingly and sat down patiently while he quickly changed. After throwing on his hoodie and jeans, Tsuna washed his face with some cold water in the bathroom. He stared at the mirror for a few minutes, noting his flushed cheeks and disheveled hair. 

He looked alive.

* * *

It was already evening when the two left. After Tsuna locked the doors and texted Kyoko his thanks, he let Natsu jump into his arms and grunted from the cat’s weight. He really did grow.

Walking was painful. Every muscle ached and Tsuna was seriously wondering if Reborn was the devil or not. Most likely since he was a slave-driver and an inhuman athlete. Tsuna didn’t protest much when Reborn guided him to his car—he was probably going to collapse if he took the bus—and it was a _really_ nice car: a sleek, black Maserati that smelled like espresso and Reborn’s musky cologne.

Tsuna mentally shook his head. Sure, he was a huge fan but Reborn was his coach now, which was still unbelievable, no matter how many times Tsuna thought about it. Actually, Reborn wasn’t even a coach himself, but he taught well. Well, that was pretty much guaranteed considering how long Reborn competed.

“Who was that woman?”

Tsuna tensed when Reborn spoke. He glanced out the window to see that they were probably breaking every traffic rule in Japan. He turned away before he got any more nauseous. “Bianchi,” he said. “She was my ballet teacher.” 

“She wasn’t there.” 

Tsuna grimaced. “Yeah. We…had a disagreement.”

“Fix it,” Reborn said. “You’ll need her for your training.”

Tsuna sighed. “I don’t know if she wants to talk to me anymore. I said some pretty shitty things.”

Reborn raised a brow. “Did I say wallow in self-pity? I said to fix it.”

Tsuna rolled his eyes. “Wow, you must be the light of all the parties.”

Reborn smirked. “Of course I am.”

“Glad to know.” 

“I meant it when I said fix whatever misgivings you have with her. We only have a year or so until the next Grand Prix.”

“You’re really set on the gold, huh?” 

“You _will_ get the gold. I’ll make sure of it.”

Tsuna shivered from the implications of that statement. Kami, he could see the future torture and brutal training already. “I don’t know. Can you? Can _I_ really do that?” 

“I never fail and I don’t intend to.”

Tsuna stroked Natsu’s fur absent-mindedly, taking small comfort in the cat’s presence. “Yes, that’s _you_ , but me…What if I screw up again? I can’t afford that.” 

“Then don’t. I’ll make sure you don’t mess up again.”

“That’s a lot of faith you have in me.”

Reborn smirked. “Currently, I have no faith in you. You’re only slightly above the average skater and not even by much. I only have faith in myself.”

Tsuna deadpanned. “Gee, thanks. That really lifts my spirits.” 

“My job is to have you get that gold in the Grand Prix and I intend to succeed with full marks.” 

Even though Reborn’s words were callous, they were still somewhat comforting and Tsuna couldn’t help but really hope that it’d come true. 

“Thank you, Reborn-san,” he said quietly.

“You can only afford to say that after you win the gold.” 

Tsuna smiled. “Still, thank you for giving me another chance.” 

The rest of the ride was driven in complete but comfortable silence.

* * *

When they arrived at the Sawada Onsen, Tsuna couldn’t help but hold Natsu tighter to his chest. He opened the door and was greeted with the sight of his parents actually waiting for him at the entrance. 

Whatever his father was going to say to him quickly died in his throat when he noticed Reborn behind him. Tsuna wasn’t lying if he said that he was disgusted when Iemitsu immediately gave Reborn a bright grin. 

“Ah, Reborn-san, welcome back!” he said, ushering the man inside. “How was your drive? Namimori isn’t the biggest town around but it has some nice places.”

Reborn just offered him a slight nod as he shrugged off his coat, which Nana quickly helped him with. “Tsuna will be showing me around tomorrow. Do you happen to serve espresso, Sawada-san?”

Nana smiled sweetly. “Please call me Nana, Reborn-san. And yes, we have espresso. Would you like me to deliver it to your room?”

Iemitsu looked back and forth between Reborn and Tsuna, trying to understand this sudden development. Tsuna just toed off his shoes at the entranceway and tried to sneak away when Nana said, “Tsu-kun, where are you going?”

Mumbling a curse under his breath, Tsuna turned to face his mother. “My room. I was about to go take a bath.”

“Oh, go wash yourself and come back when you’re finished, alright?”

The “ _Your father and I need to have a talk with you”_ didn’t even have to be said out loud for her message to get across. Tsuna just left as fast as he could. When he passed Bianchi’s room, he stopped to stare at the door and mull over whether he should knock or not before turning away. He cursed at himself for being such a coward as he walked into his bedroom.

Dumping his duffel bag onto the floor, he quickly set out to take a nice, hot bath in the private onsen. He groaned when the hot water eased the tension in his muscles. Soaking himself more, Tsuna washed the sweat off his skin and got out to massage his hair with some shampoo. His fingers trembled a bit from the effort, but he managed anyways.

After debating on whether or not he’d stay longer, Tsuna finally returned to his room to change into some T-shirt and shorts. Natsu greeted him with a meow and followed him downstairs where Nana and Iemitsu were talking with Reborn like they were a bunch of old friends. Ieyasu was still nowhere to be seen.

Tsuna still couldn’t believe that Reborn was here.

The said man was the first to notice his presence and gestured him to sit down. Tsuna huffed but obeyed, finally drawing his parents’ attention.

Nana smiled at him. “Tsu-kun, my, that was fast. I’ll get dinner for you and Reborn-kun. What were you doing this late at night?”

Tsuna just made himself comfortable on his floor cushion. Natsu curled next to him, swishing his tail lazily and ignoring Iemitsu’s disapproving stare. “I was just busy,” he said.

“Bianchi left,” Iemitsu said. “Did something happen?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

Tsuna nodded in thanks when Nana set his bowl of rice in front of him. Reborn smiled at her charmingly, making her blush when he thanked her as well. 

“How did you get acquainted with Reborn?” Iemitsu said. “Did you bother him?”

Nana chuckled behind her hand. “Oh, you know how much Tsu-kun admires Reborn-kun, dear. Why, he still has those posters up in his room.”

Tsuna choked on his rice. “O—Okaa-san!”

He paled even more when Reborn gave him an amused smirk. “Oh? Posters?”

“I—I collected them when I was nine, okay? It’s nothing.”

“He still has them up in his room,” Nana said. “It’s quite endearing. All he ever talked about was you when he was younger. Why, you were the one who inspired him to skate!” She sighed. “It’s disheartening to know that Tsu-kun won’t be doing that anymore. He insists on it quite stubbornly, too.”

Tsuna gripped his chopsticks tightly in his hand. He felt like crawling into a hole and die. Iemitsu poured himself a glass of water. 

“I think it’s good for him,” he said. “Nothing good ever came out of his career. I tried telling him to do something else for a change but he’s always insisting that skating was his calling.”

Tsuna placed his chopsticks down on the table and stood up. Nana looked up at him, confused. 

“Tsu-kun, where are you going?” she said “Aren’t you hungry?”

“No,” Tsuna said. “I’ll be in my room.”

He stopped short when Reborn spoke up, “He will win the gold in the next Grand Prix.” 

Tsuna swiveled on this feet, his eyes wide. Reborn calmly sipped his cup and set it down on the table, taking all the time in the world. When their eyes met, Tsuna’s breath hitched.

Iemitsu raised a brow. “Well, that’s nice of you to say but Tsuna told us that he quit.” He laughed. “No point in trying to win something you’re not going to compete in.” 

“He didn’t quit,” Reborn said, never taking his eyes off of Tsuna. “In fact, he changed his mind this afternoon.” 

Nana tilted her head. “I still don’t understand, Reborn-kun.” 

“What I mean to say, Sawada-san, is that starting today, I will be Tsuna’s coach—and he will win the gold in the next Grand Prix.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little fun fact: Not sure if anyone caught this, but Kozato Makoto is Enma's father. :^D


	3. Chapter 3

A moment of stunned silence fell over the kitchen.

Tsuna shifted under his parents’ scrutiny, looking anywhere but them. He didn’t know whether to be mortified or happy—a little bit of both maybe, but this was still new territory for him.

“Did you just say that you’ll be Tsu-kun’s coach?” Nana finally said.

Tsuna tensed from the genuine surprise in her voice. He unconsciously stepped back, glancing at the doorway. If he was sneaky enough, he could run for it.

Reborn’s response was immediate, cool and unflinching. “Yes.”

When Tsuna locked gazes with Reborn, the other’s dark eyes looked brighter all of a sudden, almost golden. A shiver ran down Tsuna’s spine. He’d never seen Reborn like this before.

Iemitsu huffed a laugh. “And Tsuna agreed?”

“Yes,” Reborn said.

“I don’t know,” Iemitsu said. “That’s nice, but Tsuna’s not ready for that again.”

Tsuna flinched, his heart nearly sinking from the skepticism on his father’s face. Nana smiled. “Dear, that’s a little much,” she said. “But, Tsu-kun, you should consider taking a longer break, maybe spend some time doing something else. That’ll help you take your mind off of things.” She clapped her hands. “Oh, you could even spend more time with Yasu-kun!”

“Tsuna doesn’t have the time or luxury to do anything else but train,” Reborn said. “He’s only going to grow older, and his lacking career so far has already made him a weak contender for the next season.”

Iemitsu leaned his elbow on the table. “That’s what I’ve been saying for years! Look, Tsuna, time isn’t going to be easy on you. Did you see the other competitors out there? What’s his name? Haruo? Hachiro?”

“Hayato,” Nana said.

“Right! That boy’s a natural! I don’t know anything about skating, but I know a winner when I see one.”

Tsuna swallowed thickly. This wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He grasped the doorway, his fingers burning from his tight grip.

“I don’t like being interrupted,” Reborn suddenly said. Iemitsu, even Nana, flinched under his sharp gaze. “And you don’t have a say in this matter if you don’t know the circumstances.”

Iemitsu furrowed his brows. “Now, wait a minute—”

Nana held his arm. “Dear—”

“—Tsuna is my _son_ and you’re nothing but—”

“His coach,” Reborn said. “His training and schedules from now on will be under my supervision. I don’t want you, your wife, or your other son interfering. It will only impede Tsuna’s progress and provide unnecessary distractions, which he can’t afford.”

Iemitsu scowled. “You d—”

“Tsuna’s an adult and doesn’t need your permission to do what he wants. He chose this and I’ll make sure he follows through with his promise. I won’t be repeating myself a third time, Sawada-san.”

Iemitsu was either really stupid or really brave. “And I won’t be repeating myself either—Tsuna is my _son_.” He looked at Tsuna, making him tense. “Are you being serious about this? Do you _want_ a repeat of what happened last time?”

Reborn narrowed his eyes. “There won’t be a repeat of a last time. Ts—”

“I’m sure my son knows how to speak for himself, Reborn-san.”

Nana rubbed Iemitsu’s taut shoulder. “Honey…”

Tsuna’s breath hitched when all eyes turned on him. “I—I—”

He jumped when the front door slammed open, but was silently grateful for the small distraction. Ieyasu sauntered inside and dumped his bag on the ground.

“I’m home,” he said blandly.

Beaming, Nana hurried over to help him take off his coat. “Welcome home, Yasu-kun! Did you have fun with your friends?”

Ieyasu didn’t look up from his phone to greet his mother. “Yup,” he said. Tsuna grunted when his brother brushed past his shoulder, making him stumble. “Wow, smells good, Kaa-san!”

“Oh, didn’t you eat already?” Nana said, trailing behind him.

Ieyasu grinned. “I can never pass up your cooking!" 

Iemitsu laughed. “That’s my boy!”

Nana giggled. “Alright then, I’ll get you your bowl. Sit, sit. Oh, sweetie, have you met Reborn-kun?”

Ieyasu quirked a brow when he finally noticed the man. Reborn merely glanced at him before looking back to Tsuna. Rubbing his aching shoulder, Tsuna just left the kitchen. It hurt just a little when no one called for him, but his parents’ warm laughter reminded him how much of an insignificant shadow he was in their lives.

He stepped out into the cold. The moon hung in the night sky, casting a soft glow on his face. Tsuna’s breath hitched when he crossed the small yard and stopped in front of Renchan’s grave. Some snow covered the dog’s portrait and a withered lily. Tsuna crouched to brush it away.

“Hey, Ren-chan,” he said, his breath appearing as white puffs in the air. “I’m sorry for being late. Well, three years late.” He chuckled bitterly. “At least—At least, you didn’t suffer or anything. You”—Tsuna clenched his hands into fists—“You suck, you know? You could’ve just—just waited for me, just a little bit more.”

Shivering, Tsuna rubbed his arms for warmth. Maybe he should’ve grabbed a coat before coming out here; still he stayed rooted to the spot.

“I quit,” he said, caressing Renchan’s portrait with his thumb. “Well, I _did_ but”—he huffed—“It’s weird, really weird. I think I’m still dreaming.” Tsuna felt his eyes burn and blinked a couple of times. His chest felt too tight. “I don’t know if I can do it. I—Bianchi left.” He chuckled. “She slapped me. I deserved it though. I’m so fucking stupid.” Chin quivering, he felt tears streaming down his cheeks. “Why—Why can’t you be here, Renchan? I need you…”

All his life, Tsuna had to jump over obstacle after obstacle just to survive. No matter how long it took or how hard it was, he could bear it if others stopped pushing him down. Ieyasu was just a constant reminder of the person Tsuna could’ve been and it _showed_ —it fucking showed so much Tsuna felt like screaming every time he saw his face.

Even his parents thought the same. Tsuna closed his eyes. Maybe he could freeze to death out here. It sounded fitting, perfect actually.

Soft snow crunched behind him. Tsuna stiffened when something heavy and warm draped over his shoulders. Looking down, he saw that it was a black coat—Reborn’s coat. It smelled faintly like espresso and something woody, but Tsuna couldn’t pinpoint the fragrance. 

“Getting sick won’t help either of us,” Reborn said.

Tsuna didn’t look up or move. All of his limbs felt heavy, and he really was serious about freezing to death. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to remove Reborn’s coat. His fingers curled into fists against his aching chest.

Neither of them spoke for a while. The silence wasn’t as suffocating, just quiet, the good kind of quiet. Reborn’s nearly golden eyes flashed in his mind. Tsuna’s breath hitched and he curled in himself even more. He looked so confident, but…

“They’re not wrong,” Tsuna said. “You should go back to Italy.”

Reborn’s voice was still irritatingly calm. “I didn’t come here to waste my time.”

Tsuna pursed his lips. “ _I’m_ wasting your time.” He yelped when Reborn smacked his head. Rubbing the sore spot, Tsuna bit his lip. “You’re made of fucking stone, I swear.”

Reborn huffed under his breath. “Moping won’t help you.”

Tsuna felt small wrapping his arms around his knees. “When I…skated your long program, I thought of Renchan.” He tightened his hands. “I found him on the streets when I was coming home. He’s—He was everything to me.”

Reborn remained quiet while he talked. Tsuna didn’t know whether to be grateful or humiliated; but at this point, what more did he have to lose?

“I shouldn’t have looked at my phone.” Tsuna’s voice cracked a little. “But that little shit”—He inhaled sharply—“Fuck. It’s been three years. So yeah…there’s my dirty laundry for you.” Grimacing, Tsuna shook his numb legs. “You have Leon, right? Take care of him. You might not know when…”

His voice trailed off when he met Reborn’s gaze. Under the moonlight, the man still looked intimidating but there was something softer about him. Tsuna blinked, and it disappeared, facing the same impassive man from before. Maybe he was just seeing things.

Reborn only wore a black sweater and slacks, unperturbed by the cold. “Rather than worrying about Leon, you should worry about yourself. If you get sick, your training will be set back. We can’t afford to waste any time.”

Tsuna opened his mouth but closed it. They walked side-by-side in silence, with the snow crunching softly underneath them.

* * *

Sleep had been nicer than Tsuna expected.

He dreamt of nothing. Also, he felt strangely warm. Shifting, Tsuna rolled over until he felt something tickle his nose. He blinked rapidly and winced when some sunlight assaulted his vision. What the…?

“R—Renchan?” he said, his eyes widening.

A large Doberman snoozed by Tsuna’s side. The dog’s ear twitched before he rolled over and propped his head on Tsuna’s stomach. Gasping, Tsuna slowly reached out for the dog’s head but stopped when he saw the ebony collar around his neck: _Leon_.

Tsuna fell back on his pillow with a sigh. A few minutes passed before Tsuna sat up again, startling Leon. “Wait, what are you doing _here_?” he said.

Tsuna fell back on his pillow with a sigh. A few minutes passed before Tsuna sat up again, startling Leon. “Wait, what are you doing _here_?” he said. His bedroom door then slid open. Reborn stood at the doorway clad in black slacks and a casual yellow sweater. Tsuna gaped. “What are _you_ doing here? This is my room!”

Raising a brow, Reborn perused his neat bedroom. He suddenly smirked. Tsuna followed his line of sight to the posters decorating his wall— _Reborn’s_ posters. Yelping, he scrambled to his feet and covered them as best as he could. Leon simply hopped off his bed and yawned.

“D—Don’t look!” Tsuna said.

Reborn’s smirk didn’t disappear, the bastard. “Limited edition?”

Tsuna grabbed his pillow and threw it at Reborn’s face. The man just moved his head to the side, dodging it. “Get the hell out of my room!”

Reborn simply gestured towards the hallway. “Change. We’re going out. Leon.”

Leon lightly trotted to the door, leaving Tsuna flushed and wide-eyed. His heart raced against his chest. Patting the posters behind him, Tsuna sighed in relief when none of them was torn. He scowled. Goddamn it—he waited _two_ days early to buy the poster and even waited a night early.

He stared at a smaller poster featuring Reborn in the 2015 World Championships in Shanghai. Wearing black gloves and a dashing black suit embroidered with gold designs, Reborn posed as a dancer in a masquerade ball. His left hand stretched out to the audience as if asking for a dance. Tsuna could still hear the ominous cellos and double-bass boom in the rink, gradually increasing with the intense tempo and swirling melodies.

Opening his eyes, Tsuna found himself back in his room, not watching Reborn skating across the ice to the intense waltz. Fuck, why did the man have to be so perfect?

* * *

After changing into some hoodie and jeans, Tsuna slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and dashed down the stairs. He found Natsu beside the fruit bowl on the kitchen counter. 

“What happened to you?” Tsuna said, petting Natsu’s head.

Natsu meowed almost irritably before bounding to the ground and sauntering off to God knows where. Tsuna snorted. Natsu was definitely sulking. Tsuna grabbed an apple before bumping to his mother on his way out.

“Oh, morning, Kaa-san,” Tsuna said. “Just getting my apple here. You know, daily nutrition and…stuff.”

Nana frowned. Before she could say another word, someone else spoke up, “Sit down and eat, Tsuna.”

Tsuna nearly screamed when he noticed Reborn eating breakfast at the dining table without a care in the world. He looked back and forth between Reborn and Nana, who looked completely lost. Well, that wasn’t helpful.

“I’m not repeating myself,” Reborn said.

Tsuna sputtered dumbly for a second before plopping down across from him. Not caring how petty he looked, he dumped his duffel bag by his feet and scowled at his bowl of rice.

“You’re too skinny,” Reborn said.

“I didn’t ask,” Tsuna said, picking up his chopsticks. He honestly wasn’t that hungry.

“If you don’t eat well, it’ll only hinder you.”

“I said I _didn’t_ ask.”

The only sounds in the dining room were Nana washing dishes in the kitchen and some muted chatter from the onsen guests. Tsuna glanced at Nana from the corner of his eye. She was humming a small tune, completely oblivious to the awkward tension.

“From now on, you’ll _eat_ breakfast,” Reborn said, sipping his miso soup. “You’re not allowed to skip any meals or training. I already reserved that skating rink until the Chugoku, Shikoku, and Kyushu Championship.”

Tsuna nearly choked on his fish. Ignoring Reborn’s reprimanding look, he quickly downed some water and wiped his mouth. “The—The what? Already?”

“Yes. That’ll be your first step to the Grand Prix series.” Tsuna flinched when Reborn looked at him sharply. “I’m not an easy coach. I’m going to expect you to give 1,000% to everything I teach you. There won’t be room for arguments.”

“Why’re you telling me this?” Tsuna said, his gut clenching. Ah, shit, he should’ve just refused from the beginning. His body was still sore from the impromptu training yesterday.

“I’m simply letting you know my expectations.” 

Tsuna narrowed his eyes. “Have you ever coached before?” 

Reborn’s lips twitched slightly. “I am now.” 

Tsuna wrinkled his nose. “You gotta be fu—”

He yelped when Reborn kicked his leg under the table. The man raised a brow but his smirk remained in place. “Language.”

Nana poked her head out of the kitchen. “Is everything alright?”

Biting his lip, Tsuna rubbed his aching leg. That fucking _hurt_. 

Reborn smiled pleasantly. “There’s nothing wrong, Sawada-san. Your miso soup is lovely.”

Nana beamed and cupped her red cheeks. “Thank you! Would you like some more?”

Tsuna rolled his eyes.

“No, thank you,” Reborn said, placing his spoon on the table. “We were just about to leave.”

Nana’s smile wavered a little. “Ah, well, have a nice day. Don’t push yourself too much, alright?”

Reborn grabbed his coat from his chair. “Thank you, but that’s not what you should be telling me.”

Tsuna’s jaw dropped. He grunted when Reborn picked up his duffel bag and shoved it against his chest.

“Hurry up,” Reborn said, putting on his coat. “We’re already five minutes behind schedule. That’ll be added to your training.”

Tsuna widened his eyes. “Wait, what?”

Reborn was already slipping on his shoes. “Five minutes and counting.”

Scrambling to his feet, Tsuna stumbled when a loud shriek came from the bathroom. He furrowed his brows as Nana dropped whatever she was holding and dashed up the stairs.

“Yasu-kun?” she said, her voice fading.

Tsuna didn’t have any time to think about it more when Reborn glanced at his watch. “Seven minutes," he said.

Gritting his teeth, Tsuna grabbed his sneakers. “You better not be lying.” 

He could practically _sense_ Reborn smirking above him. “Time doesn’t lie, Tsuna.”

“Whatever.” Tsuna glanced at Natsu who was still sulking on his fluffy bed. “Natsu?” The cat simply flicked his tail in response, not even turning to face him. Tsuna rolled his eyes. “I hope you starve.”

He soon followed Reborn outside to his car. Today wasn’t as cold as last night but the wind was still fairly chilly. Sitting in the shotgun seat, Tsuna rested his cheek on his fist while Reborn started the car. Still, he wondered what Ieyasu had screamed about.

“He shouldn’t have touched what belonged to him,” Reborn suddenly said.

Tsuna blinked. “Wha…?” He narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t say anything."

Reborn smirked. “You did—in your mind.”

Tsuna groaned. “Oh my God, you’re crazy. _I’m_ crazy for even doing this.” He looked out the window. “So…what did he do?” 

“I think pink will look nice on him.”

A few seconds of silence passed. Suddenly, Tsuna choked on a giggle until he couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore. He didn’t even care if Reborn thought he was actually crazy—that was just fucking gold.

* * *

When they arrived at Namimori Ice Palace, a large crowd surrounded the building. Tsuna squinted, cursing at himself for forgetting his contacts.

“What’s going on?” he said.

“It’s the press,” Reborn said, parking some feet away and unbuckling his seatbelt.

Tsuna widened his eyes. “The press? Why?”

Reborn smirked. “Why else?”

Tsuna didn’t have the time to respond. Reborn was already out the car. He looked down at his lap before forcing himself to follow. Trailing behind Reborn, he nearly had a heart attack when the reporters suddenly swarmed them.

Some of them shouted in Italian while others spoke Japanese here and there. Honestly, it was just a clusterfuck of languages. Not that Tsuna had anything against them. It’d just be nice if he knew what most of them were saying.

“Are you retiring, Reborn-san?”

“What are you doing here in Namimori?”

“Will you be participating in the Grand Prix?” 

“What’s your plan for the next season?”

Tsuna jumped when a mic was shoved in his face. A female reporter regarded him seriously. “Sawada-san, are the rumors about your retirement true?”

Everyone, aside from some camera flashes, immediately silenced when Reborn raised his hand. “My focus now is coaching Tsuna for the next Grand Prix,” he said in Japanese. “As to my participation for the next season, we’ll see.” Tsuna jumped when Reborn wrapped his arm around his shoulders. “No more questions. Thank you.”

And just like that, Reborn guided Tsuna inside the building and shut the doors in the reporters’ faces. Their distant clamor and shouts still echoed faintly in the lobby.

Tsuna pursed his lips. “Did you really book the whole place?” Not even Kyoko or Haru was around. He was kind of hoping that they’d be a buffer to Reborn’s sadism but he guessed he was on his own.

“Go change,” Reborn said, heading to the rink.

Tsuna grumbled under his breath, “Sadist.” 

He flinched when Reborn looked over his shoulder with a smirk. “Twenty-two minutes and counting.”

Tsuna had never ran to the changing room so fast in his life.

* * *

Stretching had been a pain; stepping onto the ice was even worse.

Tsuna’s body still ached from yesterday; his muscles felt like heavy lead. He skated a few laps around the rink, trying to visualize the jumps in his head. Closing his eyes, he relished in the cool breeze caressing his flushed cheeks.

After some rounds, he transitioned into forward crossovers, then backwards. His legs started aching less, his muscles relaxing. The burn was still there, but it was a nice kind of burn.

The doors suddenly opened, creating a loud boom that echoed in the rink. Tsuna yelped and lost his footing, but fell into a pair of strong arms. He didn’t even get the chance to speak when someone stormed down the stairs.

“Reborn!” the person said. “What the hell are you doing here? You were supposed to be with me, bastard!”

Even with his poor vision, Tsuna could tell who that was: Gokudera Hayato, the rising star of a new generation of Italian skaters. Only 15-years-old, he was already a two-time consecutive winner for both the Junior World and Junior Grand Prix Final Championships.

What the hell was _he_ doing _here_?

Tsuna up righted himself, gripping Reborn’s arms for support, who easily steadied him.

“You still have ten minutes to finish your warm-up,” Reborn said. Tsuna glanced at Gokudera who glowered at them both when a hand gripped his chin and forced him to look back at Reborn. “Ten minutes, Tsuna.”

Blushing, Tsuna pushed Reborn away and skated off. “Yeah, ten minutes. Got it.”

He stiffened when Gokudera said, “Don’t _ignore_ me, Reborn!”

Nonetheless, Reborn gave the teen one look that shut him up instantly. Clicking his tongue, Gokudera stalked over to a bench and sat down, scowling. Tsuna did some simple jumps and tried hard not looking at Gokudera whenever he skated by, but it was just so fucking weird (and awkward).

“Tsuna,” Reborn said, his deep voice echoing in the rink, “focus. Do it again.”

“Right,” Tsuna mumbled.

He timed himself, then bent his free knee forward and took off into the air. Pulling his arms tightly to his chest, Tsuna executed a double Salchow before landing on his skate. Gokudera scoffed from the side but Tsuna ignored him—or well, tried to.

This went on for some time. Slowly, Tsuna forgot Gokudera was there, focusing only on Reborn’s curt instructions and keeping up with his hellish regimen. Reborn should be fucking _sued_ for this. It was bound to kill someone soon.

Muscles burning, Tsuna gained speed for another go at the triple axel. Bending both knees, he took off. One, two, three, a ha—fuck. He landed shakily and fell to the ice again. His body didn’t even hurt when he tumbled onto his back. Sighing, Tsuna closed his eyes for a moment before hauling himself up, his knees trembling.

He rolled his eyes when Gokudera scoffed for the umpteenth time. “Yeah, whatever, kid.”

Gokudera scowled. “I’m not a kid, bastard.”

Tsuna laughed. “Funny.” He deadpanned. “Not. Go fu—” He squeaked when Reborn smacked his head, gliding past him. “What the—” He shut up after Reborn gave him a questioning look. “Heck. I was gonna say heck.”

Reborn just raised a brow, making Tsuna huff. Skating towards the rink’s exit, Reborn gestured for Gokudera to stand. The teen did, his scowl still in place. Now that Tsuna was closer, he could see Gokudera wearing some black-and-white baseball jacket with a pretty cool-looking tiger stitched on the back. Well, the kid had good taste.

“Pass that,” Reborn said, pointing at a water bottle. Gokudera pursed his lips but obeyed anyways, chucking it at Reborn’s face who caught it gracefully. Tsuna barely had time to react when Reborn tossed the bottle to him. “Small sips. Work on your axels then. You’re under-rotating.”

Rolling his eyes, Tsuna tried hard not to chug the water in large gulps. _Small sips, my ass_ , he thought, capping the bottle. _I’m going to fucking die at this rate._

“You’re not going to die,” Reborn said, leaning against the rink’s wall and crossing his arms over his chest. “Stop being dramatic.”

“That’s creepy,” Tsuna said, skating over to place the water bottle down.

“Oi, I’m right here,” Gokudera said, glaring. “Stop ignoring me, Reborn.”

Tsuna’s brow twitched. “Look, I don’t know why you’re here, but I think we’d all be happier if you kept your mouth shut.” 

“Fuck off.”

Tsuna widened his eyes. Looking back and forth between Reborn and Gokudera, he shook the former’s arm and pointed at Gokudera. “Hey, he said that.”

Reborn raised a brow. “I’m aware.”

“But—But he said _that_.”

“Your point?”

Tsuna scowled. “You hit me if I say sh— _stuff_ like that. Why don’t you do something to him?”

Reborn’s lips slightly twitched. “He’s not my student.”

Tsuna’s cheeks _weren’t_ red from that. No, it was cold, his body was sore, and he just wanted to drop dead. Yeah, that was it. And if Gokudera didn’t drop that smirk, Tsuna would help him in the next second.

“Fu— _Freakin’_ unbelievable,” Tsuna muttered under his breath. He scowled when Reborn quirked a brow. “Freakin’—I said _freakin’_.”

Huffing lightly, Reborn just tipped his (stupid) fedora. “You have two minutes to explain why you’re here.”

Gokudera sputtered, “W—What?”

Reborn glanced at his watch. “Time’s ticking.”

Tsuna couldn’t help but snicker at the indignant expression on Gokudera’s face. The teen glared at him, but he just shrugged. “You promised to make me a program!” Gokudera said. “And don’t say you forgot about it either! I know you know! You said it yourself!”

Tsuna blinked. He glanced at Reborn who kept a cool mask in place. Figures.

“You have a minute left,” Reborn said.

Gokudera clenched his hands into fists. “Are you fucking listening to me?” 

“I am.”

“Then say something!”

What the heck was Gokudera talking about? Tsuna jumped when Gokudera slammed his fist on the railing.

“Reborn!” Gokudera said, his eyes murderous. They were eerily similar to someone else Tsuna knew. He could see how they were related.

Reborn only said, “Twenty-two seconds.”

Inhaling sharply, Gokudera gritted his teeth. “So what the hell are you doing here with this”—he jabbed a thumb at Tsuna—“fucking loser?”

Tsuna snorted. “Come on, kid, you can be more creative than that.”

“Shut up!”

“Oh, I’m terrified.”

“He’s my student,” Reborn said. “Is that all?”

“Just answer my goddamn question!” Gokudera said. “You promised!”

“I have my priorities, Hayato.” Gokudera tensed when Reborn spoke his name. “And that promise was only _if_ you had beaten my score. From what I remember, you were five points short.”

Gokudera looked like he swallowed a lemon. “I—You—But—”

Tsuna slightly winced. There was some genuine hurt behind Gokudera’s anger.

“If that’s all,” Reborn said, standing upright, “Tsuna, triple axel.”

Tsuna blurted out the words without thinking, “You can just make a program for him. I don’t really mind.”

“I’m not going to waste my time on other things,” Reborn said, making Tsuna tense. Suddenly he smirked. “But are you willing to share me that easily?”

Tsuna flushed. “Wait—I—That’s not what I mea—”

“Fine.”

Tsuna froze. Fuck, did he screw up? He mentally smacked himself. What the heck was he even thinking by saying that? Wait, he wasn’t.

“Choose a song.”

Tsuna and Gokudera both blinked.

“Eh?” 

“Hah?”

Reborn gestured towards the rink. “Only one person can get the gold, and I’m only willing to bring one there.”

Tsuna suddenly felt cold when Reborn’s gaze pinned him to the spot. Shit, he fucked up—he fucked up _bad_.

“So,” Gokudera said, “you’re, what, proposing a competition?”

“I’m glad you’ve caught up,” Reborn said.

Gokudera clicked his tongue. “Fine, but when I win, you’re going to coach _me_.”

Tsuna’s gears in his mind started locking up. Win? Coach? For a brief moment, his father’s words rang in his ears: _“Right! That boy’s a natural! I don’t know much about skating, but I know a winner when I see one.”_

“If Tsuna accepts,” Reborn said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Oh,” Tsuna said smartly. “Um, what if…I say no?”

“Then I’ll focus elsewhere. Being your coach means I’m yours just as much as you’re mine, and I’m not willing to share.” Reborn smirked. “One person can only get the gold after all.”

Tsuna was pretty sure Reborn was saying what he thought he was saying, but getting into that was just going to give him more headaches. Yeah, Tsuna wanted to drop dead now.

“So if I win—”

“ _Whoever_ wins will be my student.”

“Right…” Tsuna sighed. “How will this work?” 

Reborn procured two slips of paper from his slacks. Tsuna didn’t question it. At this point, the man might as well carry a gun. Reborn gave him a knowing smirk.

“Write down a piece,” Reborn said, handing them the paper and pen. “I’ll choreograph a program for each of you.”

Tsuna blinked. “What? Really?”

“You have ten seconds.”

“ _What_?”

Tsuna and Gokudera shared a look before the latter scribbled something down. Chewing his lip, Tsuna clicked his pen and wrote the first thing that came to mind. Honestly, it was terrible since it was the song he skated to at the Grand Prix Final.

He barely blinked when Reborn took his paper. A moment of tense silence hung in the rink. Reborn scanned their choices before smiling slightly.

“Well?” Gokudera said.

Reborn returned them. “We’ll start now.”

Tsuna pursed his lips. He looked down at his slip before widening his eyes. “Wait, this isn’t—”

“What the hell is this?” Gokudera said, waving his paper in Reborn’s face. 

Reborn smiled but it wasn’t pleasant. “Your programs. Watch carefully. I won’t repeat it.”

Looking back at Tsuna wasn’t his song choice _or_ his handwriting—it was Gokudera’s.

_Masquerade Waltz by Aram Khachaturian_. 

The song Reborn had skated to at Shanghai…

* * *

If training alone with Reborn was worse, training with some kid who was probably raised on the streets was even worse.

“For a skinny kid,” Tsuna panted, running up the hill, “you’re _heavy_.”

He winced when Gokudera yelled in his ear, “Shut up! You’re just fucking weak! Hurry up! We have only have two minutes!”

“I’m glad you’re counting,” Tsuna deadpanned.

His arms trembled as he piggy-backed Gokudera up the steep, rocky steps. Goddamn it, he _hated_ this—he hated the shrine, hated these stairs, hated this kid, hated Reborn, hated _everything_. What even _was_ this? This wasn’t training—this was something pulled out of the army. Tsuna’s legs gave out when he finally reached the top.

Gokudera grunted as he rolled over. “Time?”

Reborn pushed off the tree he was leaning on. Tsuna wanted to punch the smirk off his face; better yet, just punch him in the face; but, he had no strength to move. It had already been half a month and Tsuna was already thinking that death was the better option.

He blinked a couple of times when Reborn loomed over him, casting a shadow over his sweaty face. Reborn hummed and glanced at his watch. “You were two seconds faster than last week.”

Tsuna laughed almost hysterically. Tapping Gokudera’s limp arm, he ignored the teen’s protests. “Oh my God, yes. Finally…”

“Whatever,” Tsuna said, smiling and closing his eyes. “Two seconds—two seconds is great.”

“You can do better,” Reborn said, amused.

“Nah, I’m at my limit. Thanks.”

“Get up. We’re not done yet. I hope you like water.”

Tsuna and Gokudera snapped their gazes at the smirking man. 

“What?”

“Huh?”

* * *

“Holy shit, I’m going to _kill_ him.” 

“I’m getting to him first, bastard.”

“You can take the leftovers, kid.”

“I’m _not_ a kid!”

“Oh my God, face it, you’re 15. That makes you a kid.” 

“You’re 23 and a fucking grandpa.”

“You seriously have some screws loose. Hey, are you keeping count?”

“The hell? No.”

A moment of silence passed. Tsuna sighed as the small waterfall continued pouring over his body. He didn’t know how long they’d been standing there. The water had been colder but now it was lukewarm. Gokudera shivered next to him and sneezed.

Tsuna snorted. “Cute. What, can’t handle it?”

Gokudera scowled. He opened his mouth before sneezing again. Tsuna stifled a laugh. He seriously reminded him of a kitten. Shaking his hands, Tsuna stepped out of the gushing water and stretched his arms in the air. “I’m just going to call it a day,” he said, walking over to his towel.

“Oi, time’s not up,” Gokudera said, not moving from his spot.

Tsuna dried his hair and, leaving the towel on top of his head, sat down on a boulder. He glanced at his phone. “Actually, time’s up. It’s been over for ten minutes now.”

He laughed when Gokudera immediately left the waterfall and waded through the crystal clear blue waters, sloshing them. Tossing Gokudera a towel, Tsuna made himself comfortable on his perch. The steady stream of water soothed his sore muscles and cooled his feet. His shoulders still hurt like hell though.

“Did you figure it out yet?” he said. 

Gokudera sniffled. “What?”

“Your program.”

Gokudera scoffed. “Did _you_?”

Tsuna rolled his eyes. This was probably the most he talked to Gokudera in weeks. “I’m not sure,” he said, leaning his chin on his palm. “I’m _pretty_ sure you don’t know what you’re doing either.”

Gokudera smacked his head with his towel. “Don’t say shit you don’t know.”

Tsuna grinned. “But I _do_ know. It’s not like we skate in separate rinks.” 

“I’m not the one who picked _Valse Sentimentale_ , retard.”

“And I’m not the one who picked _Masquerade Waltz_ , genius.”

Gokudera clicked his tongue. “Why'd you even pick your last song?”

“I don’t know. I panicked! Besides”—Tsuna snickered—“you’re not getting far with the emotional thing, are you?”

“Shut up. And what do you know about being sexy?”

Tsuna flushed. “Hey, that’s not fair!”

Gokudera shook his damp hair. “It’s not a secret you fucked up last year.”

“Now _that’s_ low.”

Gokudera smirked. “It’s the truth.”

Tsuna smacked his head, ignoring Gokudera’s yelp. “Yeah, whatever.”

For a moment or two, they didn’t speak. Tsuna’s hazy thoughts muddled again for the hundredth time that month. He still felt like he was dreaming. “Why’d you pick the waltz?” he said.

Gokudera stayed quiet for a while. Tsuna glanced over his shoulder, raising a brow when he saw how subdued Gokudera was. He looked a little lost in his thoughts. Tsuna wasn’t sure if he had heard him. Sighing, he leaned his head back to look up at the blue, cloudless sky.

“My dog died,” he said, “when I performed in the finals. Well, he actually died three years ago. My brother told me. That’s when I learned to never look at my phone on competition day or take any calls from him. That works out, too.”

“What a load of bullshit.” 

Tsuna tensed. “What?” 

Gokudera leaned his back against Tsuna’s boulder, preventing him from seeing his face. “I said what a load of bullshit.”

“Hey—” 

“So what? You’re dumber than I thought. I wouldn’t have lost my head.”

Tsuna pursed his lips. “Yeah, well, that’s you and this is me.”

“And you’re pathetic.”

Case of déjà vu, anyone? Tsuna rubbed his face. “Okay, I am. I get it. Sorry if trying to be friends with you isn’t working.” He sighed into his hands. He didn’t want to go this route. He really didn’t. “You know why I picked _Valse Sentimentale_?”

“I didn’t ask,” Gokudera said.

“I was already thinking of retiring then. I had a rough season. But then Reborn came and things changed.” Tsuna stretched out his legs. “I thought that maybe I could get my chance again, you know? I mean, if Reborn came here to help me, that’s something, right?” He chuckled bitterly. “But then you came and everything goes down to shit again.” Tsuna jumped when Gokudera abruptly stood up and grabbed his phone and towel. “Where are you going?”

“Back down,” Gokudera said, not looking at him. “I’m hate this place. Also, I didn’t agree to compete with some coward. Grow some balls. At least make this dumb competition worth it.”

Even though Tsuna was being insulted every which way to heaven and hell, his heart felt a little lighter. He hadn’t realized that he missed the small thrill until now.

* * *

There were two days left until the competition and Tsuna _still_ didn’t know how to interpret the program Reborn choreographed for him.

He’d never skated something dynamic or passionate or really branched out of his comfort zone. Well, the choreography was great, as expected from Reborn, but Tsuna found himself trying too hard emulating him instead of making it his own.

Yawning, he sat up from his futon and scratched his head. Natsu flicked his tail against his chest, stretching with a small meow. Tsuna scratched behind his ear, earning a pleased purr. “Morning, Na’su.”

He hoped there’d be a day when he wouldn’t have to wake up at five in the morning, but his fate was sealed—for the moment. Groaning, he fell back on his pillow. Stupid Gokudera, stupid Reborn, stupid competition, which was apparently the hottest gossip in Namimori at the moment. Haru even called it “Hot Springs on Ice”.

Tsuna rolled over and forced himself to get out of bed. Changing into his black-and-blue sweats and washing in the bathroom, he grabbed his phone and earbuds and dashed down the stairs. When he reached the bottom of the staircase, he slowed down when he heard some shuffling in the kitchen. Nana wasn’t up until another hour so who…?

Iemitsu’s messy blonde head poked above the fridge door. Tsuna tiptoed towards the front door. He was just about to slip on his other sneaker when his father’s gruff voice spoke behind him, “Tsuna.”

Tsuna tried hard not to tense in favor of tying his laces. “Morning, Otou-san.”

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Restraining a sigh, Tsuna dusted off his pants while he stood up and turned around. Iemitsu wore shorts for once. Tsuna had lost count of how many times some guests caught his father wearing only boxers, which was embarrassing, but Iemitsu never knew any shame.

“Where’re you going?”

“Out,” Tsuna said, catching his voice from shaking. “Morning jog.” 

Iemitsu pursed his lips. “You’re taking what that man says seriously.”

“Reborn’s my coach. I have to.” 

“Are you serious about this?”

Tsuna furrowed his brows. “What do you mean? I am serious about this. I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t.”

“I’m not dumb, Tsuna. People’s been talking about that competition. The news said winner gets Reborn as a coach?”

“Wow, I’m glad you’ve caught up with the world again.”

Iemitsu frowned. “Don’t use that tone with me.” 

Tsuna clenched his teeth. “Yeah, sorry. Did you want to say something? I need to go.” 

“We’re not done talking.”

“I _know_ so could you just get to the point? I don’t have time.”

“You _never_ have time—not for your brother, your mother, me. You spend every day just _skating_ , which I never thought was the best thing for you!” Iemitsu spat the sport’s name out like it was poison.

Tsuna curled his hands into fists. “You don’t get to dictate what the best thing is for me. I’m 23. I can do whatever I want _without_ you telling me what to do!”

“You’re going to listen to him and not your own father?”

“Reborn’s different. He’s my coach.” Tsuna narrowed his eyes. “And he knows what’s better for me than you do.”

Iemitsu scowled, making Tsuna step back. He had _never_ seen his father this angry before. “I knew he was bad news the moment he walked through that door. Look at yourself. There’s no knowing what that man’s up to. He might be trying to exploit you or something.”

“The _man_ you’re referring to is _Reborn_. And what could Reborn get out of this?”

“ _Nothing_.”

The whole world suddenly froze. Tsuna could hear his ragged breaths loud and clear in his ears. His nails dug crescent-shaped marks into his palms. “Then I guess that’s better than anything else,” he said, his tongue heavy. “Because at least he has the fucking guts to believe in some worthless piece of shit like me.”

Iemitsu glared at him. “Don’t use th—”

“Even if he doesn’t believe in me, at least he’s by my side where _you_ should’ve been from the start. That’s better than nothing! He came all the way here from _Italy_. You never were there for me—not you or Okaa-san or Ieyasu. So you don’t have the fucking right to tell me what to do.”

The clock in the living room was the only sound. Tsuna was pretty sure he and his father had stopped breathing. Finally, after a moment, he spoke, “Everything—I’m staking _everything_ on this. If I lose, then I’m quitting for good. But I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for me.” Turning, Tsuna grabbed the door handle and jerked it open. A cool breeze swept through his hair, but he didn’t feel cold. “And I’m doing it whether you like it or not, _Otou-san_. Have a nice fucking day.”

With that, he slammed the door shut and jogged towards the gates where Gokudera was waiting, who wore some gray-and-black sweats with his hair in a short ponytail.

“What took you so long?” Gokudera said, clicking his tongue.

“Sorry,” Tsuna said, brushing past him. “You could’ve gone ahead.”

Gokudera pursed his lips. “I don’t want the bastard to jump me.”

Tsuna grimaced. When they had tried doing the training themselves, Reborn had appeared out of nowhere and somehow dragged them back together. Needless to say, that was the first and last time they disobeyed Reborn’s (hellish, satanic, unreasonable) training orders.

“Point taken.”

They set out on a jog with Gokudera a step further ahead. “You look like shit,” he said.

Tsuna blinked. “I always do.” His lips slightly twitched. “Is our little Goku-chan growing a heart?”

“Go jump off a fucking bridge. And _don’t_ call me that!”

Tsuna snickered. “ _Sure_.”

Gokudera huffed. They stayed quiet for a moment after. Tsuna breathed in the fresh air, enjoying the peace and the cool wind blowing against his face. The sky was a beautiful shade of orange, purple, and blue as the sun rose in the distance. Sometimes, Tsuna wondered if moments like these could just stay longer, so much longer.

“Oi.”

Tsuna snapped his gaze to Gokudera who pointed at an empty bus stop. He smiled. Neither of them said it, but they’d usually stop at the bus station near the elementary school for a quick two minute break. Well technically it wasn’t allowed but Reborn never appeared so they just went with it. Taking small sips from his water bottle, Tsuna rolled his shoulders. His body didn’t ache as much anymore but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to drop dead from Reborn’s spartan training. Seriously, how wasn’t the man disgustingly buff?

Gokudera stretched his legs on the bench. “You better mean it.” 

Tsuna blinked. “Huh?”

“I’m not wasting my time here to go against a wimp,” Gokudera said, sipping his water bottle. 

Tsuna rolled his eyes. “So you’re an eavesdropper.”

“You were loud.”

“Great.” Tsuna slumped down on the bench. “I’m not going to quit.”

He flinched when Gokudera suddenly grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him up. The teen didn’t look that hostile despite the anger alight in his green eyes.

“You better not,” Gokudera said, “’cause I didn’t waste all this time to go up against some bastard who doesn’t give a shit.”

Gokudera scoffed, letting him go. Tsuna rubbed his neck. The kid was smaller than him but could apparently pick up a grown man like it was nothing.

“Yeah, right,” Gokudera said. “You talk big and that’s what I hate about you.”

“Look who’s talking.” 

Gokudera narrowed his eyes. “At least I’m actually good. Wait, I’m _better_ than you.”

Tsuna clicked his tongue. “What’s your fucking point?”

“Don’t chicken out at the last minute, dumbass!”

Tsuna widened his eyes. “What?”

Gokudera looked away. “Just don’t cop out, retard. Just…do what you gotta do and…don’t let others dictate your life or some shit like that.” For a second, Tsuna thought Gokudera mumbled, “That’s what she told me…”

Tsuna huffed a small laugh. “Yeah, I won’t.” He grinned and poked Gokudera’s side. “Where’d you get that from? A Hallmark card?”

Gokudera’s ears turned red. “Shut up! You get what I mean!”

Tsuna’s smile softened. “Yeah.” He stood up and stretched his arms in the air. Some bones popped in his back. Suddenly, he smacked Gokudera’s head and dashed off. Grinning, he waved at the stunned teen. “Last one there’s gotta carry the winner the whole day!” 

“You bastard! Get back here!”

* * *

“You’re still too stiff with your spins.”

Panting hard, Tsuna struggled to maintain his ending pose before leaning over his shaking knees. The piece’s last booming note slowly faded into a lingering hush. It was just the two of them that afternoon or late evening. Tsuna lost track of time hours ago. Gokudera had left early for some business, Tsuna hadn’t listened.

The competition was tomorrow.

“That’s all for today,” Reborn said, skating past him. 

Tsuna blinked. “Wait, what? Are you serious?” He glanced at the clock. “It’s only 5:40.”

Reborn smirked from the exit. “And I’m not privy in killing you before a competition. Rest is just as important.”

Tsuna made a small face. Reborn should speak for himself ‘cause the past month had been complete and utter _hell_. “Yeah, right…”

He skated towards the exit and nearly collapsed on a bench. Something cool suddenly rested on his forehead. When he looked up, he saw Reborn handing him a cold water bottle. He accepted it hesitantly. “Thanks…?”

“Don’t overstress your body tonight,” Reborn said, walking away. “I’m sure you’re smart enough to know what to do.”

Tsuna grimaced. He wasn’t exactly the greatest at relaxing. Stress was his specialty and he was probably going to stay up half the night thinking of all the worst things that would happen tomorrow. He hissed when Reborn flicked his forehead.

“Stop thinking,” Reborn said, bending down to untie Tsuna’s skates. Tsuna didn’t even have the strength to protest. “Show me the skater from before.” Tsuna tensed when Reborn looked up. “Show me every part of you, Tsuna.”

Without saying more, Reborn stood up and reached out to him with his hand. Tsuna stared at it, mentally pinching himself to check if he was dreaming. Finally, he took it—Reborn’s hand was larger than his, but felt cool and almost comforting—and hauled himself up.

Tsuna’s heart nearly skipped a beat. He didn’t— _couldn’t_ —say anything. Fuck, he sounded like one of those characters from the romance novels Bianchi always read. But, he couldn’t deny the fact that he felt lighter when Reborn looked at him like that—the man _believed_ in him.

Even if it was just for show Tsuna didn’t feel alone, not anymore.

In Reborn’s car he pulled up Kawahira’s number: _I don’t think I’ll leave._

The response was immediate: _I’m glad to hear that, Tsunayoshi. I look forward to seeing you on the ice again._

Tsuna couldn't help but smile.

* * *

“When did you get all _this_?”

Reborn had a rich career but looking at the piles of skating costumes, Tsuna was pretty sure there wasn’t _this_ many. Were there?

“They came in this morning,” Reborn said. He was lying on his futon, propped up by his elbow. Leon laid down beside him, his eyes never leaving Tsuna’s face. That was a little creepy. “Pick. Hayato already did earlier.”

Tsuna blinked. “Why?”

Reborn raised a brow. “Are you going to skate in your sweats?”

Tsuna flushed. “Point taken.”

He looked down at the array of colorful clothes. Suddenly he gasped and picked up a black suit with a vest and deep wine red dress shirt. “This is from the 2013 Grand Prix Finals when you skated to the _Carmen_ medley! It looks the same!” He widened his eyes when he found another gem: a yellow shirt with white and gold rhinestone sequins decorating the shoulders. A shade of orange lightly mixed in with the yellow at the hem. “Your senior debut! No one expected you to skate to _Danse Macabre_ with this!”

Reborn huffed. “You’re enjoying yourself.”

Tsuna scowled but it looked more like a pout. “Hey, I was a fan, okay?”

Reborn raised a brow. “Was?”

Tsuna didn’t meet his gaze, busying himself with a deep blue and purple costume that faded into black towards the bottom. “Yeah, until you subjected me to that terrible training. Seriously, I think you’re secretly taking steroids.”

Reborn hummed to himself. “I don’t. Think of it as a testament to my abilities.”

Tsuna shifted through some more outfits. Honestly, he didn’t know what he was going to pick. He didn’t even know how to actually _skate_ his program. One, he didn’t know how to show…“sexual love” as Reborn had put it. Two, sexy was not in his dictionary. He was about as sexy as a piece of brick. Three, the competition was _tomorrow_. A small gleam soon caught his eye. He reached out, grabbing a familiar outfit. It was a simple black and silver costume with rhinestone sequin beads on the shoulders. This was from Reborn’s official debut as a skater.

“Take it.”

Tsuna tensed. He turned around, biting his lip. “I—I couldn’t.”

“It suits you.” 

Tsuna’s breath hitched. He looked down at the costume, feeling the smooth fabric with his hands. Suddenly, he perked up. Wait, why didn’t he think of that before? Looking back at Reborn, Tsuna couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you,” he said. “Really.”

Reborn’s lips slightly twitched, his eyes taking on that golden hue again. “Go rest, Tsuna.”

Tsuna nodded. “I will.” 

Not really—he had some researching to do.

* * *

Hiding underneath his covers—Reborn had come around _five_ times to make sure he was sleeping; plus, Ieyasu screamed the third time he came but Tsuna didn’t question it—Tsuna went on YouTube. When he found what he was looking for, he put on his earbuds.

_Masquerade Waltz_ thundered in the rink as the pair skaters in the video commenced their program—2016 World Figure Skating Championships Finals in Boston. Colonello and Lal Mirch Altieri, a married couple who were currently the top pair figure skaters in the world. Their record was on par with Reborn until four years ago. Colonello had slipped from over-exhaustion, missing to catch Lal Mirch as she fell to the ice. The scar on her cheek was one of the consequences. Still, they continued taking on the figure skating world by storm, amassing the highest medal count for any pair skaters in history.

Entranced, Tsuna watched Colonello, donning a handsome military uniform, and Lal Mirch, wearing a complementary blue dress, skate across the ice with brilliant synchronicity. They held onto each other in a spin. Lal Mirch smiled coquettishly, trailing a hand under Colonello’s chin, before turning to skate off for her own fiery dance.

Grinning wildly, Colonello gave chase, amassing amazing speed to keep up with Lal Mirch’s pace. They skated around each other with subtle touches but never giving in to the other. When the final note resounded among the deafening applause, Lal Mirch and Colonello held hands and bowed, waving with bright smiles on Colonello’s part. They left the rink side-by-side, hand-in-hand, never a step too forward or behind the other.

Tsuna quickly found the next video he had in mind. The same waltz boomed in another arena with different skaters: Rokudo Mukuro and Nagi, fraternal twins from Naples who were a part of the rising generation of new skaters. 2017 Junior Grand Prix Finals in Nagoya. Their program was much more graceful and sophisticated than Colonello and Lal Mirch’s.

Twirling, Nagi returned to Mukuro’s arms, her eyes soft. Her purple dress twinkled under the lights. In a dashing black suit, Mukuro guided her across the ice before he lifted her by the waist and threw her in the air. Nagi rotated three times until Mukuro caught her fall for a smooth landing, letting her land on one foot. As the ending note echoed amongst the roaring crowds, Mukuro and Nagi smiled and bowed graciously. Holding hands, they skated off the rink with Mukuro right behind Nagi, his arm wrapped around her slim waist.

Rubbing his face, Tsuna sighed. For one thing, this was purely research and not some way to ogle brilliant skaters. He had a thought before but now, he wasn’t so sure. He groaned into his pillow. Lying wasn’t his best skill. He _might’ve_ imagined him and Reborn skating…to the waltz…together.

“Fuck,” he mumbled.

That wasn’t helping. A waltz required _two_ people, a couple, a pair. Colonello and Lal Mirch had interpreted the piece as a passionate dance between wild lovers while Mukuro and Nagi had interpreted it as a sophisticated dance among gentle souls. Then again, they weren’t _Tsuna’s_ interpretation, especially since he was dancing alone. Nothing was wrong with Reborn’s choreography, there was just something wrong with Tsuna.

How the hell was he supposed to convey “sexual love” when he had no experience whatsoever? Then again Gokudera wasn’t exactly happy about the “unconditional love” part on his end either. Tsuna sighed.

Wait.

Reborn had danced to the same piece a few years ago, portraying a single man amongst a sea of suitors who vied for his attention but danced with no one, merely swaying along the fine edge of seduction and refinery—a playboy who could’ve danced with whoever he wanted to but chose not to.

Tsuna’s breath hitched. That could work. Flinging his blankets, he scrambled out of bed and grabbed a random hoodie and pants. Natsu meowed his discomfort from the floor. “Sorry, Natsu,” Tsuna said, zipping his blue hoodie. “I’ll repay you later, but I gotta do this.” He petted Natsu’s head. “Watch my room until I come back, okay?”

Only one person could help him right now.

* * *

 

Maybe he should’ve thought this more through.

Tsuna paced outside Bianchi’s house, catching himself twice from ringing the doorbell. The lights were off and the neighborhood was quiet. “That’s normal,” he mumbled under his breath, rubbing his arms. “It’s like two in the morning, Tsuna. Come on, get your shit together.”

They hadn’t spoken for nearly a month, a record on their part. The most they went without talking was two days when Bianchi travelled to Italy some years back to meet Gokudera and make amends. That went to shit for a lack of better words.

Tsuna gritted his teeth. “Fuck.”

Glancing at his phone, he found Bianchi’s number. His thumb hovered over the call button. Come on, he even had a whole apology planned for this.

_“Don’t chicken out at the last minute, dumbass!”_

Tsuna clenched his hands into fists. He _wasn’t_ going to quit just because he fucked up once (or twice). This time, he’d march across the thin ice and ignore the cracks. Finally he rang the doorbell. A small tune echoed softly inside the house. Tsuna waited with bated breath. Soon, the lights turned on. Suppressing the urge to run, Tsuna stayed rooted to the spot as the door swung open.

“Who the he—” Bianchi paused. She wore a white tank top with some purple shorts, and her long hair was in a messy bun.

The apology Tsuna crafted on the way suddenly leapt out the window. “Um hey, Bianchi. I—I’m sorry for not calling.”

Bianchi deadpanned. “What’re you doing here? It’s late.”

Tsuna licked his lips. “I—I just—” He took a deep breath. His muscles were tenser than all the times he had trained. “I’m sorry…for everything. I know I was stupid then and I shouldn’t have lashed out like that. I’m sorry. I—A lot happened since you left.” Tsuna looked up, his eyes wide. “I don’t expect you to forgive me or anything! I just—You were the only person who’d been there for me, you know? And really, I’m not saying that you’re obligated to do anything for me b—”

He blinked when Bianchi placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. She smiled crookedly, her eyes losing their heat. “I can’t have a mess on my doorstep,” she said. “The neighbors will talk.”

“Right,” he said. “Sorry.”

Sighing, Bianchi leaned on the doorway. “I was hard on you, too. Honestly I should’ve picked a better time. I still think you needed that talk.” She smiled slightly. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss you, brat.”

Tsuna huffed. “Who wouldn’t miss the wonderful me?” 

Bianchi scoffed but the smile didn’t leave her face. “You’re pushing it.”

They smiled at each other, and Tsuna had never felt so relieved.

“Still, that doesn’t explain why you’re here,” Bianchi said. “What, you got kicked out?”

Tsuna flushed. “No!” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I—I was kind of hoping that you could…help me.”

“In two in the morning? After a crappy apology?”

Tsuna grimaced. “Right.” He met Bianchi’s gaze, startling her. “I meant it when I said you’re not obligated to help me. You can say no but I had no one else to turn to.”

“What about your boyfriend?” 

Tsuna stared incredulously at the smirking woman. “What? What boyfriend? I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Bianchi rolled her eyes. “Oh please, we know you and Reborn are the main staple around here.” She snickered. “Who would’ve thought that the little bunny could get together with the big bad wolf?”

Tsuna felt his cheeks turn redder. “Y—You—That’s not—We’re not—”

Bianchi leaned in close to whisper, “Did you reach second base yet?”

“Bianchi!”

Throwing her head back, Bianchi laughed. “Okay, okay, I kid.” She winked. “Your secret’s safe with me. Besides, I think you look good together.”

Tsuna groaned into his hands. “I fucking hate you. We’re _not_ together. He’s just my coach—for now anyways. I’m sure you heard about the competition, which is tomorrow, and I’m fucked.” He gripped his hair. “And I don’t know what to do.”

Bianchi reached out to tilt his chin up, startling him. “Tsuna, do you know _why_ Hayato succeeds?” When Tsuna shook his head, she said, “Because he fought tooth and nail to be where he is right now. He didn’t lay down when people told him to stop; he didn’t give a shit about what others thought about him because he had nothing left to lose.” She smiled. “Someone taught him how to fight a long time ago and Hayato has always been a quick learner.”

_“Just don’t cop out, retard. Just…do what you gotta do and…don’t let others dictate your life or some shit like that.”_

Bianchi’s eyes narrowed then, making Tsuna shiver. “What are _you_ fighting for?”

Tsuna didn’t hesitate. “Everything. That’s why I’m here.” Bianchi raised a brow, silently urging him to go on. “I…need you to teach me how to move like a woman. Like, more feminine…? You get what I mean!”

Surprisingly, Bianchi didn’t laugh. Her smile just grew wider and Tsuna didn’t like the gleam in her eyes. “Oh?”

Tsuna blushed, averting his gaze. “Don’t get any weird ideas. I just…yeah.”

Bianchi smirked, opening her door wider. “Well get in, brat. There’s _so_ much you need to learn.” 

Maybe Tsuna _really_ should’ve thought things through.

* * *

Tsuna didn’t expect the turnout rate to be so high.

He recognized a lot of faces in the audience. Looking closer, he realized that there were also foreign fans. His parents weren’t there. Reporters and announcers bustled in the lobby, yelling over each other. A nervous knot coiled in Tsuna’s stomach. Damn it, he should’ve at least taken a nap but Bianchi had been _very_ thorough. His body still ached from going through the motions.

After painstakingly getting through some interviews, Tsuna entered the waiting room to stretch. Gokudera warmed-up a few feet away with his earbuds on. He looked a little out of it despite proclaiming on national television half an hour ago that he’d “crush” Tsuna to dust.

Someone snapped loudly next to Tsuna’s ear, making him jump.

“Focus, Tsuna,” Reborn said.

Wincing, Tsuna reached for his canteen, which was filled with coffee, when Reborn snatched it away. “Hey!”

Reborn raised a brow. He wore a black overcoat with a gray scarf wrapped snugly around his neck. “Do you not understand the meaning of ‘rest’?”

Tsuna leapt to his feet and grabbed the bottle back. “Just sit there and be pretty or something. I don’t need you judging my life. It’s for a good cause.”

He flinched. _Rest in pieces, Tsuna,_ he thought.

Thankfully, before Reborn could say anything, Kyoko and Haru entered the room. Tsuna grunted when Haru tackled him with a hug.

“Hahi, good luck, Tsuna!” she said. “You’ll do great! Haru will be cheering for you!”

“Thanks,” Tsuna said.

Kyoko smiled, tugging Haru away. “Come on, Haru-chan. We need to give Tsuna-kun some space.”

She and Tsuna shared a smile when Haru wasn’t looking. He flushed when Kyoko glanced at Reborn before winking at him. “Good luck, Tsuna,” she said.

Haru waved a sign she had made with a chibi Tsuna and the words, _Tsuna, fight!_ “Haru will be in the first row! Look for Haru!”

Tsuna smiled. “Got it.”

When the girls finally left, Tsuna slumped on a bench. He drank some more coffee and sighed.

_Today’s the day,_ he thought. _Make it or break it_. 

“It’s time, Tsuna,” Reborn said.

“Right…”

Tsuna inhaled deeply, then exhaled. Soon, he walked out to meet his fate.

* * *

The crowd roared when Gokudera entered the rink. He raised his arms in the air before bringing them down, skating a small lap to get a feel of the smooth ice. Tsuna stood beside Reborn at the wall, nearly jumping in anticipation.

Gokudera wore a very pale lavender costume with white designs that spread from his right hip and stopped short of reaching his left shoulder. Reborn had worn it for his short program to Chopin’s _Ballade No. 1 op. 23 G minor_ at the 2007 World Junior Figure Skating Championships in Oberstdorf. Seeing it in real-life and up-close was like a dream.

“ _Fattevi soto_ , Hayato!” some fans shouted. [Bring it on, Hayato!]

“ _Forza!_ ” [Come on!]

“ _Ti amo,_ Hayato!” [I love you, Hayato!]

Makoto’s voice spoke through the speakers then, “On the ice is a champion of several Junior Grand Prix Finals and Junior World Championships. Anticipating a senior division debut, with a program choreographed by Renato Sinclair, Hayato Gokudera!”

The crowd applauded again as Gokudera swerved to the center of the rink. He positioned himself in a self-embrace, looking over his shoulder at the ice below him.

“He’ll be skating to _Valse Sentimentale_ composed by Peter Ilch Tchaikovsky.”

Tsuna waited with bated breath for the music to start. And when it did, Gokudera _moved_ —oh, the way he moved was so different from what Tsuna expected. Plucking strings rebounded in the arena as Gokudera glided across the ice slowly with his arms still frozen in the embrace, but it _worked_. When the solo violin broke through, Gokudera finally let go. Closing his eyes, he swayed his arms about, closing them in to his chest and spinning in a small half-circle. Tsuna’s breath hitched. This was different from how Gokudera skated in practice. This was a beautiful monster.

More violins joined in when Gokudera bowed his head and raised his left leg above his head. As he brought it down, he turned, weaving in and out into a beautiful step sequence. Tsuna had never seen him so vulnerable, so raw, so _open_. The pain in Gokudera’s eyes was brief but it had existed and emoted through the teen’s small, solitary dance.

“Here he is,” Makoto said, “getting ready for the first jump in his program: a triple axel.”

Gokudera leapt in the air—one, two, three, a half—and landed, his skate creating a satisfying whoosh on the ice. The crowd cheered as Makoto said, “Beautiful triple!”

“Perfectly executed,” his coworker, Ken, said.

Undeterred, Gokudera reached his arms out and stopped short to turn and glide in the other direction. It was as if he was ashamed. Tsuna gripped the railings tightly. _What a monster_ , he thought as Gokudera soundly finished another gorgeous step sequence.

The solo violin entered a higher pitch, melancholic, before it was joined by the other violins and strings. Turning with his head thrown back, Gokudera slowly entered another lonely chase on the ice. Every short turn he made was jerky but intentional to the beat of the high-pitched violin.

“This will be the first jumping combination,” Makoto said as Gokudera prepped himself. He took off instantly, rotating rapidly in the air. “Quadruple salchow”—another leap, another perfect jump—“and a triple toe!”

The crowd clapped while Gokudera grew more desperate in his dance. Tsuna could only watch him take on another form, exposing another part of him to the world. And yet, there was something missing, as if Gokudera was afraid to break out of his delicate shell all the way.

“His final jump,” Makoto said. Gokudera didn’t waste any time leaping in the air, landing just as effortlessly. “And a beautiful quadruple toe loop. His final move is a spin sequence.”

Gokudera spun in a sitting position, his left leg extended in front of him. Gaining speed, he twirled elegantly, gaining more and more speed as he rose. He reached out to the sky, his hands clasped in a prayer, as the somber violin’ last note of echoed in the silent rink. Almost immediately the crowd whistled and cheered. Tsuna clapped with them, his eyes wide.

“What a beautiful performance!” Makoto said. “This program’s clearly out of Hayato’s element but I wouldn’t mind seeing it again in the future! Absolutely stunning!” 

“Just captivating,” Ken said.

When Gokudera skated to the exit, Tsuna ran over to greet him. “You did great! Holy crap, that was just—just _great_!”

Gokudera scoffed but his flushed cheeks turned a little redder. “Whatever.”

“That was your best performance so far,” Reborn said, walking behind Tsuna.

Gokudera widened his eyes before looking away. “Thanks.” He suddenly jabbed Tsuna’s chest. “You better not puss out, bastard!”

Tsuna smirked. “Of course not.” As soon as Gokudera left, Tsuna nearly collapsed against the rink’s wall. “I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Tsuna.” Looking up, Tsuna almost lost his footing again if Reborn hadn’t gripped his shoulder. “There’s no time to think.”

Heart thumping, Tsuna gulped. “Right.”

A ghost of a smile danced on Reborn’s lips. “Good.”

* * *

When Tsuna finally shed off his white jacket and skated out onto the rink, the crowd greeted him with a generous round of applause.

“Go, Tsuna-kun!”

“Bring it on!" 

“Hahi, Haru loves Tsuna! Go, go, go!”

No one was deterred by the anxious look on Tsuna’s face as he glided a lap around the rink. Rolling his shoulders, Tsuna moved his head from side to side, looking anywhere but the crowd. Bianchi crossed her legs from her spot in the bleachers; her lips curled into a smile when Tsuna stopped in the center and bowed his head for a moment.

_Show ‘em what you’re made of_ , she thought as Tsuna looked up again. His brown eyes shone amber under the lights. _Fight_.

“Representing Japan with stumbles in his career—”

“ _A late bloomer becoming a rising star_ ,” Makoto said, jabbing his coworker’s side and covering his mic. “We went over this already, Ken.”

Ken didn’t even blink. “—but looking for redemption, Sawada Tsunayoshi.”

The audience’s applause died down as Tsuna assumed his position. Resting his right arm on his head and left hand on his thigh, he directed his eyes to the ice just enough to only show his long lashes. Bianchi smirked. Tsuna was the perfect picture of a shy, demure woman. She snuck a glance at Reborn, who looked on impassively.

_You did well, Hayato,_ she thought. _But Tsuna will be the_ only _person Reborn sees tonight_.

The crowd watched, stunned at the completely unlike image Tsuna exhibited. Never had they seen him exude such subtle sexuality and poise. It was as if he was a different person altogether.

“He’ll be skating to _Masquerade Waltz_ by Aram Khachaturian,” Makoto said quietly, as if afraid to break the mystifying silence.

Finally, the music began, and Tsuna took off. He bent down low and lightly tossed his head back. His right arm descended to his hip as he spun halfway before he glided across the ice. Suddenly no one in the audience could breathe. Down below, Reborn raised a brow but smiled nonetheless.

_Show me, Tsuna_ , he thought as the brunet spun with his arm raised. _Show me everything._

Moving in tandem to the waltz’s beat, Tsuna swayed sensually, his arms caressing the air as if touching a lover’s face—no, a _suitor_ —and reaching out the other way for another invisible hand.

Bianchi nodded. _But can you do more, Tsuna? How far are you willing to go to keep what’s yours?_

Eyes wide, Haru couldn’t speak as Tsuna flew across the ice. Kyoko didn’t say a word. Her eyes glistened with tears. _This is another part of you, Tsuna,_ she thought, wiping them away. _Show them what you can do._

Tsuna stretched his arm to the side, the movement so delicate it took the audience’s breath away, before raising it above his head and spinning in a parody of twirling underneath his partner’s hand. He smoothly changed directions with a small skip, his head bowed. Another polite but kind farewell.

“A seductive step sequence,” Ken said, his eyes slightly wide. “Very…unlike his past performances.”

“And transitioning to his first jump,” Makoto said, forcing his tongue to work. “A spread eagle into a triple axel.”

Gliding on both feet with the heels facing each other, Tsuna leapt in the air—one, two, three, a half, _yes_ —and landed seamlessly, eliciting a loud cheer.

“Fantastic!” Makoto said. “He lands it perfectly!” 

Gokudera watched silently from the sidelines, his brows furrowed. _This…is_ him, he thought.

The timpani disappeared from the piece before Tsuna descended to the ground, his right leg stretched out behind him, and rose again just as quickly. He turned, skating backwards, and briefly met Reborn’s gaze. The man smiled slightly when saw that amber hue in Tsuna’s eyes, just like when he skated to his _Pas de Deux_ program. 

_Is that all?_ Reborn thought.

With the returning timpani, Tsuna turned again to face the audience, his hands caressing his hips while he skated along the edge of the rink.

“His second jump is coming up,” Makoto said, leaning forward. “Most of his jumps are in the second half of his program.”

Bianchi clicked her tongue. _That’s spartan,_ she thought, glancing at Reborn. _But as expected from him. Even if he has no coaching experience, he somehow works well with Tsuna._

Swinging his free leg forward in a scooping motion, Tsuna soared in the air. He grimaced after the third revolution before landing shakily. He barely saved his fall with his hand. Some audience members clapped sympathetically.

Makoto winced. “Ah, he stepped out of his quadruple Salchow. He managed to stay on his feet with the help of his hand.”

Gokudera pursed his lips. _Typical_ , he thought.

Bianchi furrowed her brows. _Don’t panic, Tsuna. You’re still the most beautiful woman onstage. Keep him there_.

Tsuna’s free hand snaked along his neck in an elegant, sensual fashion. Tossing his head back, he arched his back in a layback spin, his free leg in an attitude position, with his arms stretched to the sky. He then grabbed the free blade and pulled it towards his head. The waltz’s climax boomed amongst the cheering crowd. Tsuna reached out again almost shyly before dropping his arm and brushing his fingertips on the ice, his leg raised behind him.

“He’s aiming for his last jump,” Makoto said. “A quad-triple combination.”

“Will he land them?” Ken said in his indifferent tone.

Makoto rolled his eyes. “Yes, he _will_.”

Tsuna suddenly soared again, making almost everyone gasp. The moment his skate’s blade touched the ground, he leapt again, nailing both jumps. Makoto shook Ken’s arm with a grin, his eyes still on Tsuna’s lithe frame. “And he nails the quadruple and triple toe loop! What a combination!”

Huffing under his breath, Gokudera turned and headed for the exit. He knew a loss when he saw one. For the first time, it was him.

Soon the waltz picked up its tempo again, but Tsuna showed no signs of stopping. He brought his arms to his chest, gaining pace, and spun rapidly. When the final notes resounded, he struck his final pose, arms raised in a mock-embrace over his neck, his fingers fanned out over his flushed cheeks.

The crowd immediately exploded with cheers and some wolf-whistles. Bianchi joined them, cupping her mouth and shouting, “Attaboy, Tsuna!”

“Hahi, Tsuna, that was beautiful!” Haru cried, wiping her eyes.

“Welcome back, Tsuna-kun!” some fans shouted. 

“Encore! Encore!”

“Welcome back!”

Tsuna panted heavily, but still managed to grin and wave at the crowd, who cheered even louder, their screams and whistles filling the arena. He had never shone brighter than he did now.

_But Tsuna had always shined,_ Bianchi thought fondly. _Always._

* * *

“Reborn!” Tsuna rushed to the rink’s exit, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. Looking around, he ignored the reporters yelling out to him for a statement. “Where did Gokudera g—”

He jumped when Reborn leaned down closer to his face. “You did good, Tsuna.”

Tsuna’s cheeks reddened even more. “I—Well—I mean, I didn’t pull an all-nighter for nothing.”

Reborn’s smile softened, making Tsuna blink some more. He was dreaming, right? “I accept.”

Tsuna’s heart skipped a beat or two. “Eh?”

“I accept to be your coach.” Reborn’s hand ghosted over Tsuna’s cheek, cool against his hot skin. Tsuna shivered. “What do you think of Okayama?”

Tsuna tilted his head. “Okayama?” Wait, the next championship. His lips twitched into a smile. “It’s not bad. Been a while though.”

Reborn nodded. “We leave first thing tomorrow.”

Tsuna grinned. “Okay.”

For the first time in a while, he could finally breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the long finale to the three-shot. Sorry I've been MIA for a while, peeps. I was on vacation for the last two weeks, haha. :^D
> 
> Little Miss Bunny

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a series of one-shots I wrote in FF where I take prompts and requests from you peeps! I'll eventually get to cross-posting everything, but feel free to drop a prompt and pairing or two! :^D
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Have a lovely day~
> 
> Little Miss Bunny


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